Being a Mom Means Learning to Let Go — Even Into a Mosh Pit
My babies and their first mosh pit adventures at Girl in Red.
We moms like to celebrate firsts.
We dutifully note first smiles, first steps, first words. You know, the baby book standbys.
Me being me, I also take great pleasure in witnessing my daughters’ first live shows. And I say shows plural, not only because they each had their own first show, but also because I believe first shows exist on a continuum; we get to experience many “first” when it comes to live music.
Many of us experienced our first show when our parents took us. In the case of my eldest, that was Rufus Wainwright at the Triple Door, in my womb, before I even knew I was pregnant. I’m sure we both enjoyed his dulcet voice and that spectacular glass of champagne, my last one for many, many months to come. Her first live show as a sentient human outside of me was Goodness at the Mural Amphitheater, when she was just eight-months old. But since she can’t recall those shows, do they really count?
I have no memory of my parents taking me to see live music (I don’t come from a particularly musical family, believe it or not). But I know many of you were likely dragged to see something utterly ridiculous with yours. Do you need to claim this as your first show? I say you do… and also, you don’t.
Multiple first shows. That’s the thing.
You get to claim your first arena rock show, your first show in a rock venue, your first show in a mosh pit, your first music festival. And so on.
All that said: Girl in Red wasn’t technically a first show for either of my kids. For my eldest, the first show she remembers (and picked) was Katy Perry. For my youngest, it was First Aid Kit. Both amazing.
But last September, my kids experienced two musical milestones: their first rock venue show and their first mosh pit. As they learned that night, shows are completely different without assigned seats, with the ability to roam the room and rush the stage. And when they chose to rush the stage, they also learned what a mosh pit feels like.
And I got yet another mama lesson in letting go.
Teens to the front, moms to the playpen.
Girl in Red is an indie-pop artist from Norway, a Gen Z musical darling known for her indie-pop songs about queer love and mental health challenges. My kids first introduced me to Girl in Red and I immediately fell for her melodic lofi sensibilities, her vulnerability, and her clear prowess as a songwriter and storyteller. Girl can write some hooks, and knows how to effortlessly bring her songs — with all their sweetness and struggles — to life.
When she announced her Seattle show, I bought the three of us tickets, even as I had to pay third-party scalper prices (damn, that show sold out quick). I suspected this was our final opportunity to see Girl in Red play at an intimate club like the Showbox SoDo so I went for it.
I’m the mama who wants to ensure her kids have peak childhood musical experiences. I considered the show an investment in their futures; they’ll be able to say, “I saw her when…”
The night of the show my kids and I showed up with one of their best friends and her mom, ready to rock. The moms wanted bourbon. The teens wanted the freedom to roam without their moms close by. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement that the kids went to the stage, and the moms went in search of the bar.
So many shows I’ve gone to in the past corralled the all-ages kids off to the side and let those of us 21+ explore the room, with cocktail in hand. Not so at Girl in Red. My mama friend and I went in search of a drink and found ourselves cordoned off in the back bar, a tiny part of the overall room. We looked around us, bemused.
“Are we… in the playpen?” I asked.
She laughed and nodded.
Our children had run of house. We were in the playpen, with our bottles, I mean, bourbons.
We knew our place at this show. We were okay with it.
The question was: were our kids?
(Spoiler alert: yes, they definitely were.)
There’s a cool girl in the pit.
Please don’t think we abandoned our children for booze without regard for their safety. We moms took a look around at the crowd and decided of any show, this one would be reasonably safe to let our kids go free-range. Girl in Red is a young queer woman, and her audience echoed this. I’ve never felt a less masculine-energy crowd in my life. The room was teaming with young, feminine, and (I’m presuming) mostly queer folks, and the whole space had a super cool, welcoming feel.
So we bid our offspring adieu and settled into our playpen to watch the show with the few other 21+ folks who joined us.
And my god, what a show! I expected a folksy, fey sort of performance, based on her recordings. But, no. Marie Ulven Ringheim — that’s the Girl in Red — and her band absolutely destroyed. The show was loud, raucous, and her voice rang through the venue like a shot. Her whole vibe as she thrashed her long curly hair and shook her hips and dove into the screaming crowd reminded me of some sort of re-imagined young Robert Plant. It was strange to see this typically masculine, heavy rock energy channeled through her young femme form, but there we were, and I was so there for it all.
A highlight of the show happened in our boozy playpen. We were standing next to two women, a cute couple. When one went to go buy a t-shirt, the other turned to me and said, “I’ve checked the set list, and in two more songs she’s going to play ‘We Fell in Love in October.’ I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend during that song. Can you please record it?”
I love that song, and I love love! So of course I said yes, and of course, her girlfriend also said yes. Look how cute they are, freshly engaged!
Our drinks downed and the excitement of the engagement past, we figured it was time to wander the venue a bit. I found a slightly elevated spot just off stage left where I had a good vantage of the crowd. I tried to find our kiddos in the swarm of reveling bodies but alas, I couldn’t.
Then Girl in Red launched into “Dead Girl in the Pool,” a surprisingly upbeat, danceable song despite the dismal title. Performed live, the song was an absolute banger, and the crowd went wild.
The crowd, with my children in it.
It looked and sounded like this…
What a strange, unsettling feeling, to look at the undulating, screaming crowd and wonder where your children — your own heart, living inside those bodies — are. My youngest especially is very small for her age and doesn’t typically like crowds, or loud noise. Did I make the right call, letting them rush the front alone when they’d never been to a show like this before? Were they trapped in that throng??
For a moment, my eyes scanned the crowd frantically, trying in vain to find their heads as the stage spotlights panned back and forth.
Then I took a breath. I’ve been in countless crowds like this. I can read crowds like a psychic can read minds. I could see the crowd was rowdy, but it was buoyant, joyous. I’d have been able to see any ripple of conflict from my vantage point, and I saw none.
My children are fine, I thought to myself. I took a breath, and moved away from the view. I let it go, and was able to enjoy the rest of the set in that same crowd, albeit in the periphery.
Our children, in fact, were better than fine.
They were elated.
When the show ended, we moms met them up by front door with cold bottles of water, as moms do. They downed them eagerly, glowing with sweat and fevered, ecstatic post-show energy, gushing about the performance in-between gulps.
They loved it.
They spent the ride home raving about what they’d seen and heard in fits and spurts, sharing their experiences with each other and simultaneously posting to social media with photos and videos of the show, a gush of sheer giddiness.
As for me? It was a gift, to let them go just a little so they could immerse themselves in the rock and roll rush of it all.
Greetings!
I’m Dana DuBois, a GenX word nerd living in the Pacific Northwest with a whole lot of little words to share. I’m a founder and editor of three publications: Pink Hair & Pronouns, Three Imaginary Girls, and genXy. I write across a variety of topics but parenting, music and pop culture, relationships, and feminism are my favorites. Em-dashes, Oxford commas, and well-placed semi-colons make my heart happy.
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I love sharing music with my kiddos. My oldest went to Amon Amarth in utero, lol. Soon my youngest and I will see our first rap show together (he’s 14 and I am…older).
Funny thing about masculine energy, I have never felt unsafe at a metal show, despite that they are generally 90% sausage. I keep out of the pit, of course, just due to the higher physicality.
I would have been very happy in the playpen. And probably stayed there! I don't remember my first concert but I do remember several concerts from long ago - Adam Ant, INXS, The Police, Jimmy Buffet, Eurythmics, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Sheryl Crow, Lyle Lovett. Thank you for sharing this adventure!