For years there have been battles between the helicopter mom and the free range parent. The co-sleeper and the cry-it-out devotee. But through it all, there’s one thing almost every mom can agree on. The appeal of one Mr. Justin Timberlake.
Two months ago, I was devastated, devastated when I learned that JT and Jay-Z would not be coming to St. Louis on their “Legends of the Summer” tour. It was a knife through the hearts of so many moms like me.
We work hard all day, we sacrifice and struggle – all we want is two hours of JT on a St. Louis stage, preferably shirtless. Just as important, we owe it to our children.
Anytime I mention “Justin,” to my daughter, her immediate response is “Bieber,” to which I silently weep. Even worse, the cultural curator for our hometown Bud Light Platinum was blowing us off for cities that are apparently hipper and sexier than we are, like the coolness capitol of the world, Hershey, Pa.
Hershey was rockin’ the hot pants while St. Louis was schlumping around in our mom jeans. Immediately, I began firing off texts to JT, from the diplomatic “You owe your Bud Light constituents this, sir!” to the irate “Them Hershey girls ain’t nothin’ but trollops!” to the apologetic “I’m so sorry, baby. Please come back to St. Louis. You look really handsome in your skinny suit.”
Granted, I don’t have his cell phone number and I never hit send, but I was typing them out in my head. However, finally, this week, it was announced that JT will be bringing the sexy back to St. Louis when his “20/20 Experience World Tour” stops here on November 19. And you all can thank the moms of St. Louis for making it happen.
I think JT finally understands who are his bread and butter. It’s us moms who have been there for him every step of the way since N’Sync debuted in 1995. We’ve been by his side through the highs and lows. For every “D*** in a Box,” The Social Network and “Cry Me a River” moment, there’s been Yogi Bear and the Britney Spears matching denim horror of 2001.
We made it through the cornrows and boy band overalls, and he realized we are to be rewarded with a live rendition of “Senorita,” preferably shirtless. Or it was likely a secret underground movement that is bringing him to St. Louis. In a town this size and with InBev in our backyard, each mom is just two degrees separated from JT.
We asked around at our playdates and church small groups to find JT’s BFF at InBev and schedule a clandestine meeting. I’m convinced it took just one persuasive PTO mom and a Fox Treat, and JT was putty in her hands. Never, ever go up against a PTO mom – she makes s**t happen.
The moment the concert was announced this week, I immediately signed up for JT’s fan club to get early bird tickets and also because I’m apparently 12 years old. On November 19th, I’ll even break my no-stadium-concert rule. I’ve always loved concerts, but now that I’m old, it’s no longer fun to sit a million miles from the stage in a seat that’s mysteriously shrunk since I was 25. Not to mention the hipsters make fun of you when you bring your hemorrhoid pillow to The Black Keys concert so you can handle the plastic chairs for two hours.
I prefer my concert going as if I lived on the Axiom starliner from WALL-E – I want a cushy chair to sit in and giant drinks brought before me. But for JT, I will tolerate stadium seats and $10 beer lines for just one minute of “What Goes Around…Comes Around.”
But most important, I’m thrilled that my children are going to gain a greater appreciation of a pop icon. (Me: “Justin’s coming to town! Justin’s coming to town!” MJ: “Justin Bieber?” Me: “No, for the thousandth time, Justin Timberlake. Timberlake!!” Mr. P: “You know she’s 6, right?’)
To get your first crack at “20/20 Experience” tickets, sign up alongside all the other junior high kids through JT’s fan club page at www.justintimberlake.com/tennesseekids.
Metro East mom Nicole Plegge has written for STL Parent for more than 12 years. Besides working as a freelance writer & public relations specialist, and raising two daughters and a husband, Nicole's greatest achievements are finding her misplaced car keys each day and managing to leave the house in a stain-free shirt. Her biggest regret is never being accepted to the Eastland School for Girls. Follow Nicole on Twitter @STLWriterinIL
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