The Incorrigible Night Owl

I’ve never been accused of being hip and/or happening but I’ve always tried to embrace some sort of standards. However, age and motherhood and laziness and necessity have all combined to cause me to do progressively more dorky things as time has gone along.
Case in point: I’m about to order a fanny pack.
Now, granted, it’s not the kind of fanny pack that might immediately spring to mind; the kind that was “in” back in the 90s and is still sported by tropical-shirt-clad, polyester-shorts-wearing tourists. It is what is now referred to as a “lumbar pack” and is actually worn in the fanny region rather than hanging off the front like a 450-denier kangaroo’s pouch. It’s larger, more square in shape and looks fairly sporty.
Also, I don’t intend the thing for everyday use. I have a very specific need in mind: Abbey Road on the River. This, as you may recall, is a four-day indoor/outdoor Beatles music festival which I will be attending for the third year in a row at the end of May. I will have the baby with me and, for most of the time, she will be attached to me via a sling. Because she will be quite the load all on her own I need to keep my personal possessions to a minimum and also keep them as hands-free as possible. A backpack would be both too large and impractical, as I will already have the sling wrapped around me and would have to put a backpack on over that. In the same vein, a purse with a strap that goes across the chest wouldn’t work, either. So this is really the best option. I should be able to fit all my essentials in the pack along with wipes and a couple extra diapers and we’ll be all set.
I will continue to be vigilant, though. If I find myself being seized by the urge to wear socks with flip-flops, appropriate action will be taken. I have to draw the line somewhere.