I blame other people when I may be the problem

I spent most of last weekend in a state of quiet disbelief before starting to question my thoughts on a particular matter.

A very dear friend of mine informed me that she intended to bring her two-year-old daughter to one of the country’s many summer music festivals and, to be honest, I initially thought she was just a little out of her mind.

Since I became a mum, I had a very clear stance on these kinds of events.

You could tell me that they’re child-friendly, that the family camping sites are second to none and that it’s an incredible way to bond as a family as you all snuggle beneath the roof of a plastic tent, but I still wasn’t entirely convinced.

I’d been to these festivals and yes, the family campsites are undoubtedly a lot cleaner and more sedate than the general sites and every child I encountered appeared to be having the time of their life, but who attends a festival only to remain in the camp site?

If that was the goal, you’d pitch up in a scenic part of the country, preferably beside a mid-sized lake and allow a deer to eat berries out of your hand every morning, wouldn’t you?

You attend these festivals for the open arena which houses the music tents, the food trucks and the general attractions which is also home to thousands of adults letting their hair down and generally having a good ol’ time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware the organisers of these events have gone above and beyond in the last decade to ensure a family-friendly atmosphere and a weekend to remember, and for the most part they truly deliver, but they can’t police thousands of revellers who have no little to no concern for the welfare of someone else’s kids.

And why should they? It’s their weekend too so it would be remiss to suggest they should rein themselves in so that other people’s children aren’t exposed to the raucous behaviour of adults in a predominantly adult environment.

Verbalising these thoughts to my friend, I was met with rolled eyes and utter disdain.

“You make informed choices at these events and you act accordingly when you have the kids with you. You’re not at the mercy of the festival," she said as she sighed and rubbed my arm.

“The kids are exposed to a whole host of other people every time we eat out, take a break away or go on holidays, so why the fear of this in particular?”

Her response kind of stopped me in my tracks and the reply I was about to vocalise, I actually didn’t want to hear out loud.

I have dozens of acquaintances who attend these events with their families and they wax lyrical year in, year out about how incredible it is, so maybe I’m just too uptight?

Maybe the thought of having to keep Ella on a tight leash for three to four days as we navigate the festival is too much for my high-maintenance, easily irritated personality to stand.

Maybe I’m too quick to suggest that other people would present the problem, when I just don’t have it in me to mix my present life with my past one.