Taylor Swift and Baby That's Show Business For You

Dear Jess from six months ago,

You're currently sitting on the cold linoleum floor of the laundry room at 2 AM, hiding from your snoring husband, staring at three wildly expensive stadium tickets on your phone. You're hyperventilating because your mother just told you that taking a four-month-old to a massive pop concert is basically child endangerment, and while she still thinks rubbing whiskey on teething gums is a valid medical treatment, bless her heart, she might actually have a point to be worried this time.

I know you've been scrolling TikTok for hours, watching all these perfectly contoured women living out their glamorous concert dreams, quoting Taylor Swift and baby that's show business for you, as if bringing an infant to a three-hour stadium tour in the dead of summer is just a quirky little aesthetic choice. I'm just gonna be real with you right now—it's not an aesthetic. It's a grueling endurance marathon that requires the logistical planning of a military operation, and you're currently severely underprepared.

You've got twenty open Etsy orders for custom tumblers sitting on the dining room table that you need to finish to justify how much you spent on these tickets, but instead, you're looking at miniature sequined jackets online. Stop it right now and listen to me, because I lived through the night you're currently panicking about, and we need to get a few things straight.

Please drop the sequin bedazzler immediately

I know the temptation is incredibly strong to dress the baby up like a tiny pop star because the photos would be hilarious, but you've to stop looking at those cheap plastic costumes on Amazon. Those outfits are made entirely of synthetic nightmares that trap heat like a greenhouse, and the second your baby starts sweating in that stadium crowd, their sensitive skin is going to break out in an angry, weeping rash that will absolutely ruin your night.

Beyond the fact that tulle and cheap lace feel like literal sandpaper against an infant's skin, I need you to think about the choking hazard. You already know this baby puts absolutely everything into their mouth, so gluing a bunch of tiny plastic rhinestones and fringe onto a neckline is just asking for a trip to the emergency room when they inevitably rip a bead off and swallow it. Do you remember what happened with Mason when we took him to the county fair in that scratchy polyester cowboy costume? He screamed for three solid hours until he was purple, and we had to leave before they even served the funnel cakes.

You don't want a repeat of the Mason incident at a concert you paid this much money to attend. Forget the elaborate costumes and just put them in something soft and breathable, because a comfortable baby in a plain baby t is vastly superior to a miserable baby in a highly Instagrammable outfit.

Don't waste a single brain cell worrying about how you’ll get the stroller through stadium security, because the ground is going to be so sticky with spilled soda that you'll have them strapped into the baby carrier the entire time anyway.

What Dr Miller said about little ears

When I finally caved and asked Dr. Miller if we were terrible parents for taking a baby to a stadium show, he gave me that very specific look over his glasses—the one that means he's trying to find a polite way to tell me I'm being an idiot. He started explaining something about how an infant's ear canal is completely different from ours, and because it's so incredibly small, it basically acts like an echo chamber that amplifies sound pressure to a dangerous degree.

I guess the World Health Organization has all these charts saying that anything over 70 decibels can cause damage, and Dr. Miller told me a live pop concert is usually hovering around 115 decibels. If my sleep-deprived brain understood him correctly, exposing a baby to that level of noise without serious protection is basically the equivalent of standing next to a jackhammer, and they could literally suffer permanent hearing loss in a matter of minutes. Hearing that made my stomach drop into my shoes.

You have to buy the heavy-duty, certified infant noise-canceling earmuffs, and baby, you can't cheap out on this purchase. Forget the cute little foam earplugs because they're a massive choking hazard and they won't even stay in. Get the massive, ridiculous-looking earmuffs, practice putting them on the baby at home while they sleep so they get used to the feeling, and absolutely don't take them off during the show, no matter how much they try to bat them away with their chubby little hands.

Clothes that actually survive the nosebleeds

Since we've established that the sequin jacket is a terrible idea, let me tell you what actually worked for the outfit situation. I ended up ordering the Flutter Sleeve Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit from Kianao, and it was probably the only good decision I made that entire week.

It's made out of this incredible organic cotton that seriously lets the air flow through, which was a lifesaver when we were crammed in with eighty thousand other sweaty people waiting for the opening act. The little flutter sleeves gave it that cute, dressed-up vibe without relying on scratchy materials, and because it has a little bit of stretch to it, I was able to do a frantic blowout diaper change in a stadium bathroom stall the size of a shoebox without having to completely undress her.

Honestly, when you're dealing with the chaos of a crowd that size, you just need clothes that work with you instead of fighting against you. If you want to just skip the headache and buy clothes that won't make them scream, look at Kianao's organic baby clothes before you try to DIY anything else.

The sensory overload is coming for you

Here's something nobody on the internet mentions when they post their cute stadium selfies: the lights are blinding, the bass literally vibrates in your chest, and your baby is going to hit a wall of sensory overload right around the time the sun goes down.

I thought I had prepared for everything, but when the crowd started screaming during the first set transition, she just completely melted down. Not a hungry cry, not a wet diaper cry, but that sheer, terrifying panic cry where they forget how to breathe. I was desperately trying to bounce her in the carrier, but what ended up saving us was this blanket I brought on a whim.

It’s the Organic Cotton Baby Blanket with the Purple Deer Pattern from Kianao. I originally just bought it because the lavender color kind of matched the whole tour aesthetic, but this thing is so insanely soft that it became our portable sensory deprivation tent. I draped it over the sides of the baby carrier to block out the strobe lights, and because it's double-layered organic cotton, it was thick enough to create a dark little cave but breathable enough that I didn't have to worry about her overheating in there.

She really ended up falling asleep right in the middle of the loudest song of the night, mostly because the earmuffs were blocking the noise and the blanket was blocking the chaos. I use that blanket for literally everything now—tummy time, stroller walks, hiding from my own children in the living room—it's worth every single penny.

The hotel food situation was a bust

Let's talk about the hotel we booked an hour outside the city to save money. We had this grand plan of feeding her a proper solid meal in the room before we drove to the stadium, so I packed our Walrus Silicone Plate thinking I was being so smart and organized.

Honestly? It was just okay for this specific trip. Don't get me wrong, I love that plate at home because the suction base is ridiculously strong and it stops her from throwing her spaghetti at the dog, but hotel rooms don't really have proper dining tables. I ended up trying to stick it to a weird, textured writing desk while balancing her on my lap, and it just didn't work out. We eventually gave up and just let her eat dry Cheerios off the hotel bedspread while I aggressively applied dry shampoo to my hair.

So, save yourself the luggage space. The plate is fantastic for your kitchen, but when you're traveling for a chaotic event like this, just accept that their diet is going to consist mostly of milk and whatever non-choking-hazard snacks you can shove into the diaper bag.

Just breathe through the panic

I know you're stressed. I know you're feeling guilty for spending the money, and guilty for dragging a baby into a crowd, and guilty for even wanting to do something fun for yourself for once. But you're going to survive this. Your husband is going to buy you a vastly overpriced stadium pretzel, your baby is going to sleep through the encore, and you're really going to have a really good time singing at the top of your lungs.

If you take nothing else away from this letter, just promise me you'll prioritize their comfort over a photo op, get the massive earmuffs, and grab a breathable baby blanket for the sensory breaks before you pack the car.

Love,
Jess (who survived the tour and lived to tell the tale)

The messy realities of concert prep

Are those noise-canceling headphones seriously going to stay on my kid's head?

Honestly, it's a battle of wills for the first twenty minutes. She hated them when I first put them on and kept trying to aggressively swipe them off her head like an angry bear. You just have to be incredibly persistent, put them back on every single time, and eventually, the sheer exhaustion of the environment kicks in and they give up. Practicing at home while they watch a cartoon or eat a snack really helps build up their tolerance before you get to the loud venue.

Can't I just use a regular muslin swaddle to cover the carrier?

You can try, but from my experience, those super thin muslin swaddles just blow away the second a breeze hits the stadium, or they let too much of the strobe lighting through. I really preferred having the double-layered organic cotton blanket because it genuinely had enough weight to stay draped over the carrier straps, and it made the inside genuinely dark enough for her to sleep without suffocating her in synthetic fabrics.

Is it genuinely safe to babywear for a four-hour concert?

My doctor said it was fine as long as I was using an ergonomic carrier that supported her hips properly and kept her face visible and clear of my chest. It absolutely destroyed my lower back, I'm not gonna lie to you, but it was infinitely safer than trying to handle a stroller through a sea of drunk people in cowboy boots. Just make sure you do some practice runs at home so you know how to adjust the straps when your shoulders inevitably start burning.

What do I do if they just won't stop crying during the show?

You have to establish a hard boundary with yourself before you even leave the house. My husband and I agreed that if she had a meltdown that lasted longer than fifteen minutes and couldn't be fixed by feeding, changing, or the earmuffs, one of us would take her to the quiet concourse area. You can't force a baby to endure sensory torture just because you paid a lot for tickets. It sucks, but their developing brain has to come before our entertainment.

Did you regret bringing a baby instead of just getting a sitter?

There were moments during the absolute nightmare of parking the car where I questioned every life choice that led me to that moment, yes. But we couldn't find a sitter we trusted for that long, and honestly? Looking down and seeing her sleeping peacefully against my chest while I watched my favorite songs performed live is a memory I'm never going to forget. It was incredibly hard work, but we made it work.