Dear People Without Children Who Stand in Judgement of Parents,

I know you are just horrified.  I mean how could I grab that sweet little boy’s arm and demand that he straighten up and take a damn picture in front of the giant Santa Claus, already.  Surely if the poor abused child doesn’t want to take a picture he shouldn’t be made to, right?  WRONG!!  You insensitive ignorant asshole.

Oh I see your looks as I pass you with my brood in the grocery store, Target, and at the restaurant.  Hell, you have even asked to be moved to another table when you saw us sit at the table next to you.  Really that is fine.  I would rather not look at your pinched grumpy ass while I enjoy my meal, either.  And I guess you are free to have your judgment, but you may be sorry for any remark regarding my parenting  I may hear in passing,  because you may just find yourself riding home with a small ornery boy next to you.  You think I am kidding just test me on the wrong day and see what happens.

Let me explain to you the events leading up to the Santa Claus picture meltdown.  First there was the requirement that he eat one chicken tender.  A chicken tender which he asked for and has eaten a million times before.  Oh wait, before that there was the major angst of where was Daddy going to sit and why was he sitting on the left side and not the right, but when it was suggested that Daddy could sit on the right side instead of the left a meltdown ensued.  After the chicken tender negotiation of 2010, there was the ice cream treaty of 2010.  The terms were that one chicken tender be eaten, in order, to receive the ice cream that would bring peace to the table.  Sadly, even though the treaty was passed and all terms agreed upon, one party didn’t follow through with their end of the deal while the other party had already handed over the rewards.  Hey, if the American federal government never learns how can war weary parents be expected to?

While in the car there was much thrashing and whining, because when asked if this was the place with the snow we had to sheepishly say no.  There was the nasty business of business to be taken care of, you know so there would be a roof over our heads and food for our bellies.  Finally, we made it to the location that has had the children all excited since I made the announcement the minute before we left.  Hey, I have learned and retained some things along the way.   Another meltdown would occur because we, parents, dared to ask the children to please remove themselves from the middle of the street so they wouldn’t DIE!!!

Once we reached Fulton street I started with the picture taking.  I mean the torture I put my children through.  Then the grabbing of private areas quickly happened and bathrooms needed to be found or else pay the price of crying children in wet britches.  After the longest trip to the bathroom in history, because of the lack of a changing tabl,e the girls and I come out to find that the soap snow started to blow.  There was the ceremony of chasing small children to capture these lovely memories, DAMMIT! (This whole memory business is a catch 22.  The kids don’t want their picture taken.  Well, Sam doesn’t.  The girls are pretty cooperative. Yet when they are order and there is only 3 photos of said kid off to therapy to talk and pay thousands of dollars to learn that mom just didn’t care enough to capture said memories.) Then there was the common sense suggestion that maybe the children shouldn’t eat items that they don’t exactly know what they are.  Next would be keeping an eye on children going this way and that.  My eyes simply don’t move in those directions.   As we decided it was time to go,  we knew that we needed just one picture with the giant Santa.  Here is where I must get between my husband and my son.  I lovely say pick your battles, dear and lovely suggest that maybe Sam doesn’t want a picture of Santa giving birth to him.   Massive, explosive meltdown from both parties and where you (people who just know that you would be much better parents than us and would NEVER in your life push your special snowflake to do anything they don’t want to do.  YOUR children would be able to make all their own decisions.  Yeah, let me know how that works out for ya.) enter to pass judgment as I pull my son by his arm and firmly talk in his ear that maybe he better adjust his attitude before mom goes off the deep end.

As we are all passing judgment here and pretending to know everything I have a bit of advice for you all-knowing-better-than-any-living-parent-but-have-never-raised-a-kid person.  I suggest you stand back and let us, parents, do our job, because  what seems to be our harsh puinshment today is your avoided home invasion/vandalism/nasty teenager encounter (okay, I will admit we can’t exactly eradicate all of these.) later.  Instead quietly thank us with a small smile and go about your business, because while I restrain myself with my children YOU won’t be so lucky.

P.S. To the mother behind me in the N.O. Hamburgers line who told the cashier that I have 3 kids and can handle carrying all the cups myself, I say shut your trap.  1. I was going to carry all the cups myself. 2. I go out to eat so someone else can wait on me for a change and 3. While I know you were joking, I WAS. NOT. IN. THE. MOOD!

Sincerely,

One very tired can’t wait for school to start SoutherMom of 3

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Halloween!

Let’s start with the Pumpkin Patch.  A tradition that consumes you with trying to get the perfect picture, then you die because you, even, annoy yourself:

First goal is to get everyone to look at the camera.

Not quite there, yet, but dammit if I will give up.
We are talking about memories, people!

Close!

Not quite what I had in mind, but I won’t give up!

Okay, now we are just going backwards.

Very good, now, can we get a smile from EVERYONE!

Yeah, this isn’t going to work.
I am screaming, SMILE, Evie is distracted by the hay and Sam is plotting his midnight rampage.
Amber, on the other hand, could do this all day long.
I guess we will have actual memories, instead of those plastered face smiles hiding our bitterness.

Costumes:

I couldn’t resist.
If  Robert Downey, Jr. is ever not up for IronMan 3, I have his replacement.

I was proud to escort IronMan, a Glamor witch and Ophelia.
Yes, that’s right the same Ophelia from Hamlet.
Don’t ask.  This was her 3rd costume within a week.
That girl is lucky I didn’t spend any money on those costumes.

And finally, DA DA DUM!:

SoHubby’s spontaneous Shit My Dad Says costume.
Things to know:
Sohubby did NOT have to buy any part of this costume.
Yes, he had all parts waiting in his closet.
He did NOT plan to wear this for Halloween.
He simply went upstairs and put something on to take the kids Trick or Treating.

Spooky, spooky decorations:

It was a wild, fun, crazy, whiny, sugar filled, scary, busy, happy Halloween.
I hope people like getting some candy with their Christmas gifts, because I was left with buckets of it.
Onward to Thanksgiving.
Who decided that all the eating holidays should be at the end of the year?

 

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Happy Easter or Eat a Chocolate Bunny for Breakfast!

The Easter Bunny had a bit of a problem this year.  It seems in an effort to avoid eating all the candy before it was Easter and having her butt grower bigger (AHEM!), the Bunny decided to wait fairly close to Easter before getting all the candy needed for the all important candy gorge fest that occurs every Easter morning.  Alas, the stores were not cooperating.  You see the Easter Bunny doesn’t have help like Santa, so she rarely makes all the candy herself.  She must rely on the stores to help out with her mission.  It appears that someone had gotten to all the candy before the Easter bunny, so the pickins were slim. (How can you run out of Goldbrick eggs?!)  Knowing she couldn’t let the children down, she did what any self-respecting magical creature would do, she helped herself to some of the candy that was given to a certain little school girl at school.  These parents were most likely the suspects in making the Easter Bunny’s job much harder this year, even though she did forget to get a bag of candy to give to the school (AHEM!).  Give the Bunny a break, will ya, she is having a bit of preggo brain at the moment.  Before resorting to this forgivable crime, I assure you the Easter Bunny checked everywhere, even the Dollar Store where she was willing to smear her name with sub-par chocolate.  The one thing the Bunny had forgotten was that this certain little school girl is getting older and growing smarter everyday.  That thud you heard was when the little girl held up a Spongebob egg and claimed this is the one she got from school. 

No matter, the day was saved with a distraction from the father when he declared it eat a Chocolate Bunny for Breakfast day.  How else would you celebrate the day your Savior rose from the dead?  I am sure he would have approved.  Look at how happy they are.

The Easter Bunny was on the ball for the inedible gifts that were given.  But everyone knows you can’t have Easter with just books and toys.  That is like when you get a toothbrush for Halloween.  You have good intentions, but there is a big threat of getting TPed.

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Christmas Wrap Up

NO STRESS BAKING

I have never done the massive baking that some do for Christmas, because I am not a very good baker.  Oh I have tried even with the aid of many a recipes, but most times my creations end up in the trash.  Unfit for human consumption.  Just ask those that ate my pecan pie only to discover the runny middle.  Not good.  So, since this year I am pregnant and grumpy I decided to go with a fool proof way of baking.  Besides, all the kids wanted was to sprinkle little candies ontop of some dough and eat the ones that got away.  No one has asked about the cookies, since. 

First, we started with anything and everything that could be bought at the local grocery store.

Then the little clumps of dough were laid out for the kids to do with what they will.

There was much care taken with each piece of dough.

You must choose your sprinkles carefully.  Don’t pay any attention to the fact that
there are six different sprinkles to go with 6 clumps of dough. That is just silly logic.

Now, they are all purty and ready for a little heat.

While those other ones baked, we decorated some with icing.

You see he didn’t have to sweat all day to be proud of his cookies.
He just needed a little help from the store and learn to stand up to his pushy older sister.

Santa seem to enjoy them.  And we suspect the dog, too, as these pieces would not
be left for the kids to find the next morning.

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CHRISTMAS EVE

No rest for the weary.  After a night of parties, looking at Christmas lights and meeting Santa, JUST WALKING ON THE STREET,  there was a rush home to make sure we didn’t miss the big guy in red.  Everyone was tucked in by midnight, which ensured a late wake up call.  Well, I guess that is true if some of us weren’t knocked up and had to peed every 5 minutes. 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.
You are damn tooting “with care”.  Last year we lost one of our very special silver snowglobes,
because someone wasn’t careful.
Santa went light on the stockings, this year.

The presents were stacked under the tree with anticipation of giddy little kids.

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CHRISTMAS DAY

Can’t you see his excitement and not my bad photography.
This would not be his favorite present, although it would make a good first impression.

We couldn’t catch her excitement, because the little stinker snuck down earlier to
take a peek.
This would not be her favorite gift.  Not really sure which one was her favorite.

The feeding frenzy:

Then tragedy strikes and therapy bills start to mount:

While SoHubby was busy putting this thing together:

(This would be one of Sam’s favorite gifts.)

I was put on the duty of releasing all the toys from their wired, taped, plastic prisons, which resulted in this:

Yes, that’s right folks, I decapitated Hannah Montana, IN FRONT OF Amber.
There was much wailing and rolling around on the floor, because “MOM, KILLED HANNAH MONTANA!”.
Well, someone had to, HA! 
It didn’t matter that not only does Amber have 2 other Hannah Montana dolls plus a Miley Cyrus, but she has
about a bazillion other Barbies that could fill in, while this one made a quick trip to Santa’s doll hospital.

See:

Sorry for the nudity, but when you have this many dolls to clothe, you ran out of time.
Note to toy companies, there is no reason in this world that you need to include a Barbie
in every accessories or new play set. I am drowning in Barbies over here. And Hananh Montanas.

Once I explained that I would contact Santa and ask him to send a new one, things calmed down and we went to church.  Obviously, to pray for Hannah Montana and to release the demon that made Mommy rip her head off.

Later, we would catch the toys just hanging out:

Batman (Sam’s most favorite toy in the world) would hold court while the Star Wars gang
decorated for Christmas (a little late guys) and Ironman pouted, because he wanted to be
in charge.

Hannah Montana and Lily would hang out at Rico’s for much of the day, while Fancy
Nancy looked on, feeling left out.  Later, Hannah and Lily would claim to be too full
from nachos and fruity beverages to eat the holiday meal I prepared.
INGRATES!!!

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THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS (OR THE REASON I HAVE THE BIG ‘OL SUV)

I am not big on Black Friday shopping, but I am big on getting those after Christmas sales,
especially on decorations.  We are all set for next year at half the price.  I can’t wait to have fully functioning reindeer
and enough lighted garland to wrap the house.  And along with all the new toys comes a desperate need for more storage.

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Christmas was fun, but I can’t wait to see what the new year brings.  Next year there will be 3 kids and hopefully a fully functioning mother to do all the things that we might have missed this year.  Tops on my list will be to get a picture of all the kids in a Nativity scene.  I have my Mary, Joseph and, finally, a Baby Jesus.  I am all set for the perfect Christmas picture.  I can’t wait!  I can feel the anticipation and dread in the air.  Stick around to find out how it all turns out. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!  and may it bring you joy and happiness.

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Gift-Giving Gone Bad

Recently, during one of  my many up way too early moments, I caught a Suze Orman show.  She was explaining that her family had made the decision this year not to exchange gifts, because of finances.  While she could afford to get them all gifts, she didn’t want to get them something to then turn around have them all immediately think they had to run out and get her something and possibly put it on credit card.  This has stuck with me, but I have a problem with it.  When I get a gift for someone I do it because I want to.  Okay, I admit that I have run out and got something for someone because they got something for us.  This mainly happens when kids are involved, like when a couple of Amber’s friends got her a gift, last year, that we didn’t expect and I immediately ran out to get them something.  I just think it is harder for kids to understand and who wants to let down a couple of kids.  Although, at this stage of the game my kids have either not noticed or cared that they got something for someone and they got nothing for them.  I don’t know if it is their age or their dispositions.  I hope it is the latter.  I have tried my best to instill in both kids that it is not what you get that is important but the time, effort and thought that someone put in to it.

Recently, I misunderstood something that was said at the end of one of our gymnastic classes.  The teacher was excited because the next week was going to be a gift exchange.  I had heard nothing about this and we don’t do anything like that at dance class, so I was shocked.  I made a mental note to pick up a little something for the kids in both the kids’ classes.  It wasn’t hard to do, because there are only 2 in Sam’s and 1 in Amber’s class.  I was able to pick up a little something I thought the kids would enjoy at the stock stuffing area at Target.  There was something in my gut that told me that the other parents might not bring gifts, but I didn’t really care.  It wasn’t much money and it was just something nice for the kids.  For the record, I totally spazed on Amber’s dance class.  We missed the class before and I didn’t remember until the moment we parked at the school that this was the last class before Christmas and we should have, at least, brought some candy.  I wasn’t that concerned, because no one has ever made another child feel bad because they didn’t bring anything.  Most of it is just candy that is passed around and do the kids really need more candy?  However, I noticed that tinged of guilt and quick explanation from the mother of one of Sam’s gymnastic classmates as she had nothing for Sam.  I was quick to tell her that it didn’t matter and what we got was just a little something.  There was nothing to worry about, but I wonder if she really understood what I was saying?

Then it happened again, today.  We exchanged gifts with our friends.  At one point, my friend had asked if the adults could not exchange gifts.  I said that was fine, but the truth was I had already had their gift in mind.  It was a picture of the kids.  Nothing big or expensive, just a little something.  Also, it was finally a year where I knew what I could get them.  I understand the gift giving anxiety of buying for adults.  You never know quite what to get, because most adults get what they want for themselves.  Then things that you would really love to get them are out of your price range.  I think I am missing that special gift picking gene, because I never know what to get people, especially adults.  It always sucks to exchange gifts with those people that have that gene and then some.  So, when my friend looked at me today and said, “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”  I, again, said no big deal.  It was something I wanted to get them and I thought it was perfect.  I mean they are godparents to Sam and Amber idolizes her.  And hell, I am pleased as punch to get the angry Santa picture of her little one to which we can pull out in years to come and laugh.

I hate that my gift giving has cause even the smallest ounce of anxiety, because it was not my intention.  I simply wanted to do something nice for someone and there was no need for return of any kind.  I think we have become such a PC society that simple gestures of kindness are immediately met with an anxiety to immediately thought of  how it can be returned.  Quite frankly, I have accepted that as an adult gifts are not the most important thing in the world.  SoHubby and I have often said that we are not going to exchange gifts for birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas.  If I find something for him that I think he will truly like and never get for himself, I am more than happy to pick it up for him.  Matter of fact, I had said that we weren’t going to exchange gifts this Christmas, but then find somethings that I think he would truly like.  I, finally, had to tell him that I got him something, so he didn’t feel like total shit come Christmas morning.  What I hate more than gift giving anxiety is shopping anxiety.  That anxiety you feel as the days close in on you  and  the  million stores walked finding nothing that jumps out at you for that person.  I would much rather give a gift that I have confidence in than worry about getting something in return.

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Low Key Celebrations

My family has never been big on birthdays or huge celebrations, in general.  We never did Martha Stewart style decorations, although my Aunt could give that woman a run for her money, but there was always good food and good company.   We kind of just took it as we could get it.  And I have to say, I miss those days.  Having divorced parents it was always a little tricking  on who would get the holiday and where we would be, but no matter where we ended up we had a good time and the love was felt. 

I have to wonder though, if we are missing out on something.  Like, I said I don’t remember any hard and fast traditions.  Of course, we would have a Christmas tree, a homemade birthday cake, etc, but nothing like what I read or hear from other families.  There was no feeding of the reindeers, advent calendars, footprints by the fireplace from Santa,  reading of Christmas stories, etc.  We were just kind of low key about it.  We did what was in front of us at the time and enjoyed the moment. 

Since having kids, I have thought I am failing because we don’t have some grand tradition that they can count on every year.  We try to do the same things each year, but something always gets in the way, like tired, sick and pregnant mamas, overworked dads and simply not enough time to do everything.  I wonder if my kids are missing out on something, but then I think back.  I think back to how much fun and how exciting it was to see family members that I didn’t get to see on a regular basis.  Or eating Grandma’s food, which was always a treat.  Or watching as Grandpa help Grandma make chocolate chip cookies and being very careful about putting just enough in each.  (He would hand place chocolate chips into the scoop of cookie dough.) Or wondering what kind of embarrassing moment my Stepmother would give one of us.  (I still remember the Tampax box and it makes me giggle.)  Or teasing anyone and everyone as we gathered around the table.  There never seemed to be big plans and it never seemed to bother anyone.  Sure it seems nice to have a truly “Perfect” Christmas, but thinking about it I think the casual ones are the way to go.

This year we probably won’t see family, for various reasons.  Things have fallen apart since we don’t have Grandma and Grandpa around to push for the extra effort and our ever expanding family that bring other obligations, but we are working on it.  We have a family reunion planned for May, centered around my cousin’s wedding.  We will be doing our Stingy Santa, then, which makes it easier to stay within the price guidelines when you can shop the after Christmas sales.  Even though we won’t be seeing family on the holidays I hope that what we do end up doing make for nice childhood memories for the kids.  Like the time I was too tired to make cookies from scratch, so we just baked Pillsbury sugar cookies and I let the kids decorate them with icing and sprinkles.  Or the Christmas card from MawMaw that the kids danced to every night at dinnertime. Or the presents they helped me wrapped, but took all the credit for.  The simple things. 

Life has been stressful around here worrying about businesses, money, and trying to fend off the borken appliances, but I hope that we haven’t lost our spirit.  So we have Christmas decorations that don’t work in our front yard, it is the thought that counts, right?  So what it is only 8 days before Christmas and we don’t have our tree up.  As long as it is ready before Santa arrives, we should be good, right?  And so what if our time has been monolopized by church activites, it helps us remember what we are really celebrating, right?  That we are happy, healthy, loved, appreciated and thought of during a time when many don’t have all that they wish for.

Merry Christmas and I am truly hoping for a much better year for EVERYONE.  It is time to put this stinker to rest and have hope and faith, again.

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Snow

It was like every other morning, kids were cranky, husband didn’t want to get up and I laid there hoping that this wasn’t one of the 5 mornings I had to get up at 6am to get everyone moving.  It was cold and rainy, just like the hell that was last night.  You see, Amber had her big play, last night and, because the universe hates me, it was cold and raining, heavily.  It was hell getting 2 kids, one dressed in her pretty, pretty pink flower covered dress, out of the car warm and dry.  We made it through and the night went fine, until it was time to go out to the car where it was, get this, raining harder and seem to have dropped another 10 degrees.  So to wake up to rain and cold wasn’t a huge surprise.

I dressed the kids in their warmest jackets, fought with Sam over whether he should wear it in his carseat or not, and we were off.  Nothing special about the day, until the ride home.  As we crept closer and closer to home, the ice started to form on the car and passing cars.  Odd, I thought.  I mean the weatherman had reported snow on the Northshore, but that is the Northshore.  I mean if you are going to leave that far north {snark} then you must expect some wintery weather.  I know my dad had called early this morning to report 4 inches of snow, but again when you live up north…There were murmurs of snow falling from all the locals on Twitter and a new hashtag was born.  Nothing was going on in my area, so I thought nothing of it, just a bunch of people freaking the hell out over something that doesn’t happen often, in our neck of the woods.  Then…THEN the snow drifts started.  Seriously, we had a steady and pretty substantial snow falling at one point.  It was fun and exciting, because I knew it wouldn’t last.  Funny, Amber was around the same age as Sam when the snow fell on Christmas 2004. 

So, we went out for a few minutes to enjoy the sights and then come inside to resume our normal day.  It was fun while it lasted, but we are happy to be back to normal, whatever that means in the city by the river.

No, the poor boy doesn’t have gloves.  Heck, he is lucky he has that puffy jacket.
Normally, they just wear sweaters or hoodies, because we just don’t get that cold
and it never last throughout the whole day.
Because of his lack of gloves, we had to cut short his adventure into making snowballs
and pelting me with them.

Look!  We even got some reindeers.
Yeah, some poor only able to light half of our bodies reindeers.
They are like family, so we put them out, anyway.

That’s it, folks!  It is really coming down, so close the roads, battin down the hatches
and run to under your beds.  It should be safe to come out come June or this afternoon,
when it has all melted.  Whichever one comes first.

Hey, honey.  What to relax for a spell?
He will be wishing for this come summertime.

 

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Easter

I am sure our Easter was spent like many other Catholics in the world: went to church, hunted for some brightly colored plastic eggs, ate a ham as big as your head and then sat around the Wii yelling at Amber, because she can’t point that damn controller at the screen if her life depended on it.  I had to go to the other room.  If I sit in there listening to George yelling trying to give her loud simple instructions my head will explode and I don’t need one more thing to clean up, today.

Now for your viewing pleasure:

I am not sure what we are getting ready to do, but can you hurry up. 
I see mess in my future.  Me likey a good mess.  

I have the color pink and egg dipper.  I am ready to color my world.

Dude! What. Did. You. Just. Do. With. That. Egg.

Oh. My. God.  I can’t believe I am related to these people.
Like why would you dye eggs anything but PINK.
I am done with you, now.  You may go.

Okay, Dad.  Okay, Dad.  I got it.  Let me do it, now.
What a control freak.

Hey,  you aren’t suspose to snort it. 
We better watch that girl.

That is it.  I am done.  That big one is a tyrant and the girl…well,
the girl is a…plain CRAZY.

Watch it, boy.  Don’t go cross eyed.
We ain’t going to pay to have that fix, but we will make fun of you.

Wait!  Let me get this straight.  We can eat these, too?
Moma, I think you beez crackers.

So nice.  So proud.  She drew it and colored it all by herself.

It took all of about 20 minutes and some accusations that I didn’t follow
the directions correctly, but I think they came out pretty good.  
Let’s remember folks that they are just going to make us sick after about the
third one.  And they came out the butt of a chicken.

Happy Easter

 

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Southern Family Goes to Bacchus 2008

Do you know why so many people love living in New Orleans?  Because you feel like you are part of something special; part of something that the rest of the world is not privy to.  There are many reasons why this is, but one of the big ones is Mardi Gras.  Sure they celebrate in other areas, even in America, but no one does it like New Orleans.  When you hear Mardi Gras you just think, New Orleans.

It has been a long time since I have done the parade thing and when I did it, it was restricted to the Westbank parades.  Now, the Westbank parades are just as good as the Eastbank parades and much of the same thing goes on, but I have never been to any of the “big” parades.  I have only seen Rex and Zulu on TV, although we did have a Zulu coconut in the house for year, but that all changed yesterday.  Yesterday, I made a big effort to just sit back and enjoy the experience of parade watching, New Orleans style.  Plans are made ahead of time, there is tons of waiting and then the excitement slowly builds as you hear the sirens roll through and you get a glimpse of that first float moving ever so slowly toward you. 

I had many reservations about doing a parade, much less one of the big ones, with 2 small kids, especially my 2 small kids.  There is a lot of waiting where parades are concerned and my kids don’t take kindly to that much waiting.  The adults just take this time to shoot the shit and drink some beers.  I would venture to say that the waiting on a nice day for a parade might be the adults favorite thing to do.  Kids, on the other hand, need that instant gratification.  The wait, you might wonder, was only a mere 6 hours. 

I shouldn’t have worried so much, because all went pretty well.  There were a few tired kids, who would take turns passing out during the parade.  There were a few threatens of, “If you don’t stop that right now, we will stop this train of fun and go home!”, but all in all I think it is safe to say that the kids’ first real live Mardi Gras parade was a hit.  Although, Amber would tell you it was no better than her school parade where the floats are wagons and there are no marching bands.  I didn’t kill anyone or want to kill anyone.  Okay, that last bit isn’t totally true, on the way to the parade site, the traffic was pretty painful, but once George slid behind the wheel of our trusty Suburban all was well.  I really should rent him out.  George knows just about everyway to avoid traffic during major events in the city.  I knew there was a reason I kept him around.

I would love to show you pictures of Bacchus 2008, but I abused my camera too much on pre-parade photos that it wheezed and coughed itself to an untimely death as the parade started to roll.  However, I can show you the lowdown of how we spent those 6 not so long hours before Bacchus and the rewards of our endurance.

First, one must scout out a prime location.
You would think that waiting 6 hours in one location would guarantee it
for you all night, but look out for those hussies that try to move in by talking
to one of the males in the group.  They go for the males, because they know
the females would have told them, “Oh no honey, keep it moving!”.
Don’t worry, we are a pushy bunch and the females made sure the territory
remained ours for the night.

After waiting for a couple of hours and the kids getting a little antsy, one might want to walk around and see some sights:

You can’t tell me that you see this anywhere else?
Men on horns making the time go by while waiting for the bead throwin’ to commence.
This is a private residence, not a bar with ladies’ night and a one drink minimum.

Wait?!  Did we miss the parade?  Nah, that is just one of the smaller parades
that rolled throughout the day. 

That can’t be…?  Is it really some of the Centurians from Bacchus? 
Of course not, no self-respecting float rider would be roaming the streets drinking
before the parade rolls.  Although…the drunker the rider the more Made in China
crap they don’t realize they are throwing.  Bonus….we all win.

And remember, all wagon rides are free.  However, the beverage and binky
will cost ya.

Back at the old parade spot:

Where there are wigs to try out.

Ladders to test ride.

Bead catching outfits to perfect.

And Hummers to drool over.
No honey, you still can’t have one.
I do agree it would come in handy for the next big hurricane. 

Here is where I would show all the pictures of fantastic floats and booty shakin’ dance teams, flag girls, and marchin’ bands, if my camera wasn’t dead and I wasn’t focused on the prize:

That is right, folks.  I kicked the kids out of their wagon and loaded it down with beads.
Hey, they need their exercise, right?

Oh, the prize of every parade, the stuff toy. 
It is strange, I fought so hard for them, last night, even using my kids to get most of them.
But now, I would just like them to remove themselves from my floor.

We are now fully euipped for any drop in guest.
They may have their choice of Cajun China.
The ones on the right are clean, the ones on the left you drink
out of at your own risk.

We didn’t get much in the way of doubloons,because most of them fell into gutter water.
I like getting free loot, but not enough that I may have to get a shot, because of it, later.

I will admit that it was loads of fun and many of my worries were unfounded, but if the way we feel this morning is any indictation, we will be making only one parade each Mardi Gras season.  It is horrible to have a hangover when you haven’t had a drink.

Laissez bon temps rouler!

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Business, New Orleans Style

The local government has been trying for years to bring big business to the Big Easy.  They have discussed tax breaks, and, and, and…okay, I don’t know exactly what they have discussed, but I think they are missing a big incentive:  King Cake.

As a small business owner my husband needs attorneys.  Attorneys can be a bit of a pain in the ass when asking them the simplest of questions, but there is one time a year where they make it up:  King Cake season.  It makes all those long incredibly expensive hours become a distant memory.  At least, until the next bill.  

Okay, enough of this talk, start the drooling:

The familiar yellow box arrives and the anticipation mounts.
This is the one time I don’t plot any delivery man coming to my door.

One swipe of the scissors and we are one step closer to sugary goodness.
Wait, what is all this crap on top of my sugar high?

It appears to be a history of the king cake, some beads and doubloons. 
I am already plotting how to get the many beads and other parade trinkets out of
my house before my daughter notices.  Who cares about the history of the king cake?
  All you need to know is that it is cake and it is soooooooo good.

Awwww yes, what we all have been waiting for, the sweetness of icing and pastry. 
Gotta love the French!!   

One must be careful when slicing up the cake. 
One would not want to be left with a headless baby. 
King cake: good, headless baby: bad (in any situation).

All snug and cozy, until the moment when it will be devoured.  I give it a day.
And if the kids get a whiff of it in the house, I give it less than 30 minutes.
I do have some restraint.

But wait, what is this?  One lonely piece that didn’t fit. What to do, what to do?
I am sad to report that this piece of cake didn’t survive.  No pictures of the events were captured, because it wasn’t pretty.

Now, don’t you want to make nice with me and my connections?

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