Bragg Jammin’ with a Kid

I have a confession to make: I have lived in Macon, Georgia for the better part of 10 years and as of July 25th, 2014, I had never been to Bragg Jam.

Yes, I know… this is a tragic misstep which was corrected on July 26th, 2014, when Banks and I loaded up the car and drove J down to the Kid’s Fest portion of the festival, held right downtown at the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame (Which, coincidentally, is another place I’ve never been.) Before I start in on what I thought of Bragg Jam, let me just extoll all the awesome that is the Sports Hall of Fame.

 

 

 

 

You guys… I never knew this place had so much awesome!! My kid didn’t want to leave. He kicked field goals, he threw footballs, he shot baskets and practiced balance. In short, he had an amazing time. I’d have to say that being in the museum was definitely his favorite part of the day, mostly because I refused to buy him Italian Ice before lunch. Sorry, buddy.

 

The kid’s festival was pretty sweet, to be honest, though it would have been more fun for J if I’d realized that it was all about the water. They had a blow up water slide and the fountains were going full steam and he was pretty darn miserable that I’d forgotten his swim suit. Next year, I’ll be better prepared because all the other kids looked to be having a great time! They had face painting (which J hates), a “pretend to be a rock star” booth, and lawn games like corn hole and horse shoes for the kids to play. By the time we left, the front walk way was covered with chalk art and there were hula hoops scattered everywhere. In short, it was like kid explosion. If it hadn’t been for the failure to purchase said Italian Ice, I would have had a happy kid when we left, and if Mac the Cheese Food Truck had opened before we left… well, I’d have been one happy momma, too.  Even though he wasn’t happy on the way home, the best thing I can say for our morning adventure is that it flat out wore. him. out. And I got this absolutely precious gem of a picture out of it:

 

 

 

After mandatory rest time, we got dressed and ready to actually experience a little bit of Macon night life. I don’t do this enough, y’all. Usually, I’m in my PJs before seven o’clock and let’s face it… that’s both sad and awesome at the same time. One of our local restaurants, Twang, was holding all ages shows and we figured that was the best place to delve into Bragg Jam because, well, we didn’t have to spring for a sitter and we could eat dinner while enjoying the show. Plus, added bonus, I knew a few guys in the band that was playing at 5:45 and that meant the ability to snag not only band-backed selfie’s with friends, but also frame worthy shots of a certain local attorney turned bad ass guitar player.

 

 

 

 

The band was actually good, too, which … I’ll admit… was a little surprising. I’m not sure what I expected from the Savannah Alday Band, but it wasn’t what I got. What I got was a couple of hours of country rock with a bit of unexpected swagger from the sixteen year old singer and her band. They covered a ton of songs my table knew and even a few that I knew, too, including Hotel California and Sweet Child of Mine. It may be WELL before her time, but this chick could rock out to Guns and Roses, even though I could have done without the Eagles cover. (Some things just can’t be redone well.) All things considered, I think I’d even buy their CD… she had this sort of powerful throaty growl to her voice that reminded me of Kelly Clarkson with obviously a bit more of a country spin.Halfway through the show, my son tugged on my arm with a star struck look in his eyes and when I leaned down he whispered “Look. At. Her.” pointing to the singer. Guess he was a fan, too, Miss Alday.

 

With a rockin’ show and kid fingers for my kid, I’m proud to say that we not only survived our first foray into Bragg Jam… we actually loved it. Banks and I even flirted with the idea of staying out longer and dropping J off with a sitter… but that didn’t last long. Keep it simple the first time, you know? We were still home and in PJs by eight and I can finally say I’ve been to Bragg Jam.

And so can my little rocker, J.