I Took My Child to a Wine Festival

She’s a Minor.

This happened almost two weeks ago and I still feel a twinge of shame.

Let me give some backstory here.

I really like wine. Mainly sweet wines, Moscatos and the like, but I can tolerate a red if its not super dry. In other words, you won’t find any wine snobbery here.

Mid-summer of this year, it was brought to my attention that the annual county wine festival was coming up; registration was open and tickets were selling out fast. I hadn’t attended this festival before; in fact, I had never attended a wine festival at all. Tastings and vineyards, yes, but a festival would be a new experience. The promise of wine, music and food were enough to sell me on attending, so I informed my mother-in-law and we secured our tickets.

Just like that, we had an end of summer event to look forward to.

Later on in the summer, after some back and forth on whether or not to allow our daughter to take soccer lessons, my husband and I decided to pull the trigger and registered her for the fall session. I was almost excited as her that she would finally be doing something as simple as participating in a group sport after over a year and a half of avoiding close contact with her peers. She had expressed interest over two years prior, so this was a long time coming. We took her to the sporting goods store and purchased the gear that we could get there, and ordered the rest online.

The first few lessons went better than I could have expected; my kid kept up with the group, learned new skills and enjoyed herself on the field. I was on my way to being a bonafide soccer mom. This simultaneously made me cringe a little and feel very proud.

As we closed in on the end of a September, I realized that we had a conflict between soccer practice and the wine festival: my husband had to work that day and would not be able to stay with our daughter. Our go-to sitter was my mother-in-law who was also attending, so that option was out. We didn’t have any other sitter options; there aren’t a lot of people that I trust with my kid, which is a whole other story.

I had a dilemma.

Either I opt out of the festival, sell my ticket and take my kid to soccer practice or do soccer and the festival.

Like any mother, I decided that I’d multi-task.

I’d take my daughter to her hour-long soccer practice, which would take place during the first hour of the festival and then we’d both head over to the festival from the field and meet my mother- and father-in-law and their family friend who was also attending.

Problem solved.

Ha.

Turns out that I had received some misinformation from the source who enlightened me to the festival. In the initial rundown, I was told that children had been seen at this event in years prior. However, when I informed the source that I would be bringing my kid, they suggested that I double check on that. Thankfully, a quick search of the festival site stated that minors needed to be accompanied by paying adults, no mention of kids not being permitted.

So, I kept the plans as they were.

The day of the festivities, my mother- and father-in-law, along with their friend left the house early in the afternoon to ensure a parking spot and claim a good seating area. Within an hour, I left with my kid for soccer and enjoyed a solid practice. Towards the end MIL texted to say that catching the shuttle over would be the best option as parking had been ugly even when their group arrived. Having received my directive, at the end of practice I drove the few minutes to the parking garage, grabbed our camping chairs and we caught the shuttle over to the venue. Check in was easy and so was finding our party given the clear directions provided.

When I say there was a lot of people at this place, I mean there were a lot of people. Hundreds. Without masks. (I know it was outside, but people were mere inches apart). You’d have thought the pandemic was a thing of the past. A band played covers of songs from the early 2000s. People milled around drinking, eating, singing, and talking.

It was a good vibe.

I got us settled in and went for sustenance in the form of food truck offerings, located on the far side of the field. On my walk through the maze of attendees, wine booths and vendors, I didn’t note any children but then again I wasn’t really thinking about anything but my stomach. After scarfing my chicken teriyaki bowl, it was time to get our complimentary glasses and venture into the masses to do some wine tasting.

Here we go.

We donned our masks and dove in. I steered my kid by her backpack through throngs of people to promising looking wine stalls (i.e. offered sweeter looking wines) but after my second sample, something pricked at my subconscious. I looked around at all the adults standing in lines and picking their way through the crowd, then looked at my kid. I ran into two people I know who also have children, neither of whom had them in tow. It fully dawned on me as my eyes darted around, trying for the life of me to find another kid. The closest I got was spotting a mom with an infant. The prickling I had felt were the judging looks I was receiving as I shuffled my kid around.

At least, that’s how I interpreted them.

I mean, there were no kid’s activities to be seen. No vendors selling items for children. Nothing. Because this was not a place for children.

I’d made a mistake.

I’d never felt more self-conscious.

After working our way down one row of wine booths, we came around to some vendors and my mother in law offered to take my daughter back to our seats so I could enjoy a few more samples on my own.

I took her up on the offer.

Alone, I waited in line at a few other booths, sampled a few more pours and made some notes on the wines we might like to buy from the local liquor store or online before venturing back to the group. Shortly thereafter, we packed up and headed out, leaving behind the giant party that showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

Did I enjoy myself? Moderately.

Would I have enjoyed myself more had I not brought my child? Absolutely.

Would I go back again? One hundred percent.

I just wouldn’t bring my child.

I’ll chalk this up to a lesson learned.