Excitement over gig dampened by my being a little bit too ‘extra’

MYSELF and The Youngest are off to the Big Smoke to see Little Mix this week. I’m hugely excited, The 14 year old……not so much.

It’s not that I’m a big fan of Little Mix, to be honest they’re a bit slappery looking for my liking, but their music is quite catchy and the 14 year old adores them. Just as long as she doesn’t want to start dressing like them, we’ll be ok.

No, the reason she’s not particularly looking forward to going is me really! She’s going through this phase – well at least I hope it’s a phase – where she thinks I’m the most embarrassing parent on earth. The other day in the car she told me I was “like, so extra”. I didn’t know what it meant so had to look it up.

According to the Urban Dictionary, “Extra” means “over the top, excessive, dramatic.” Well I suppose I can’t really argue with that. I am, at times, probably all of the above and up until the last year or two, my youngest found this entertaining. Not any more!

The thing is, in general she’s a great kid. She’s not cheeky or bold. She never asks for anything or pushes the boundaries, so when she demands out of the blue that I behave myself and not be “extra”, I feel I have to oblige.

This includes me not dancing or singing at the gig. The singing bit is fine because I don’t know any of their songs but how I am I not going to dance? “You can’t go to a concert and just sit there?”” I tell her. She looks evenly at me and replies, “You can stand, but just don’t dance.”

She has also informed me that she’d prefer if I did not wear my black leather mini skirt. This is my rock chick outfit, the one I wear to every concert I go to. “Why can’t I wear my leather skirt? I love that skirt.”

I get another “You should know better” look. “Mum, I don’t want to hurt your feelings but really you’re too old to wear that skirt.” Talk about going straight for the jugular. If only I could find those hot pants I used to have, that would teach her!

At least there will be cocktails, I’m allowed one before and one after the concert. I perk up at this news, knowing I’ll be able to sneak another one in without her knowing, by taking a long time in the loo. My only daughter looks at me suspiciously.

“I think you’re only coming for the cocktails,” she says.

Too bloody right I am!