I went to a reading last night and did something potentially foolish: I brought the entire family with me. Two kids, ages seven and three, at a literary reading. What could possibly go wrong, yeah?

The event listing read: “If you are old and haggard, we promise it’s not a late night. And if you have kids, we promise they are welcome. Ours will be there.” How does an old, haggard mom pass up an opportunity like that? It would be a chance for us to do something as a family, and for the kids to understand what it is I’m doing when I rush off after dinner some nights to “go to a reading.” And Vanessa Veselka would be reading from her novel-in-progress, and only a fool passes up a chance to hear something like that. So I fed everyone, got them reasonably cleaned up, and brought the crew to Old Town.

The kids (and even Billy!) listened attentively to the first two readers, Jessica Kelso and Dan DeWeese. Kiddo was especially pleased because Kelso said “shit” and “boobs.”

And then… AND THEN…there was music before Vanessa was to read. Stefan Jecusco, specifically, and I was rather excited about that. Ah, but the event listing had promised “and mysterious others.” The mysterious other?

Jolie Holland. Yep. I have only blurry evidence, because it didn’t feel like a “take a picture of the stage” kind of a night, if you know what I mean. There was an intimate, non-social-media feel to it, which was lovely. But come on. Jolie Holland. I had to sneak one quick photo. (This is also my excuse for having no photos of the writers for you. I should have at least grabbed a quick shot of Vanessa as she paced the stage, mic in hand.)

And they played. And it was awesome. Kiddo, in particular, was totally absorbed. They played again after Vanessa read, and Kiddo didn’t want to leave. We ended up staying until ten, just to let him listen to the music a while longer.

The excerpts Vanessa read from her novel-in-progress were, unsurprisingly, excellent. (You HAVE read Zazen, right?)

And my darling labelmate Alexis Smith was there, so we got to hang out and plot playdates with the kids, and Heather Hawksford (who took my author photo) was there (and shared her cookie with Kiddo, so now he loves her), and I hadn’t seen Vanessa face-to-face in possibly more than a year, so that was awesome, and Kari Luna was there in spirit but home sick the poor sweet woman (her presence would have probably pushed the whole night into overwhelmingly over-the-top too good, so it’s just as well)… and…and…

See…usually when I go out to a reading and it’s really good, like last night was, I feel like another piece of my pre-kids life clicks back into place. Which feels nice, of course. It’s satisfying to be reminded of my identity apart from them. But it’s nostalgia. Last night, what I felt click into place was a glimpse of how our life can be as the kids get older. We can go out in the evening and hear people read and listen to great music and be together as a family. I can involve the family in this part of my life, and show them some of the things that are possible with words and music and images and their brains.

This is exactly what I want our life to be. Not every week, of course. But to be able to bring my family to a reading, to know the people reading, to know the other writers who are there to listen, to be part of the literary community here in Portland in that way. And then to have the kids be into it, to really engage with what’s going on and be excited by it… And then…you know…Jolie Holland walks in.

We got home close to 10:30pm and all piled into the “big bed” together and laughed and sang and told jokes until much too late. Because sometimes staying out way too late on a summer night and then staying up way later together is exactly the right thing to do.

Oh–and this happened: