Okay, here's my favorite Pearl Jam story.
Eight years ago Pearl Jam was touring and we got tickets. For May. Weeks after Leah was born. We see a lot of concerts, but this one band had been alluding us. Either we missed out on getting tickets or they weren't coming to our area or we had scheduling conflicts. Anyway, we were really, super excited when we got these tickets.
We also know my attendance was iffy. Who knows how I was going to feel or if the baby was going to be on time. Etc.
Anyway, the time came and I was OUT; Too exhausted, overwhelmed, not up for it. Dave invited a friend and OF COURSE went anyway. I was OK with it. Bummed but OK. These things happen.
They played "Baba O'Reilly" for Pete's sake. And this was one of the first time they did. So, ok. I'm maybe still not over it. But it was Leah's fault. Really. I don't blame Dave for not skipping it.
THEN HE GETS HOME WITH A T-SHIRT. For ME. A size SMALL. I had just had a baby. A baby! I was feeling really chunky and this MALE brings home a tour t-shirt that was adolescent-sized. Way to make me feel like a WHALE after giving BIRTH to your daughter! Duh!
I don't get mad about this stuff. It just becomes a joke between us. Who does that? And Leah wears that t-shirt now and it looks pretty cool on her. She's a cool girl.
Fast-forward to tonight. Pearl Jam in Milwaukee. We moved schedules and mountains to make it there.
And I WILL go to that merch table. And I will be buying t-shirt. And it will fit me. And it all will be awesome.
And just maybe I'll stop telling this story.
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