With Hubby out of town and my parents headed to New Orleans to meet up with family and friends for JazzFest, I had a choice - stay home alone all weekend with the two girls or load them up and head them out to NOLA. It wasn't really much of a choice - we were road-tripping it! I talked myself into by reminding myself that Pumpkin is very musical, loves live music and loves to dance. She also loves hotels. Bug, on the other hand, is just as laid back as a Sunday morning, so there was really no reason NOT to go. Right?
The car ride there was fabulous - no major meltdowns, mostly naps, and we made half-decent time despite three pit stops in as many hours. The hotel room was big enough that we weren't going to suffocate (which is a big PLUS in NOLA) and the weather seemed like it was going to hold out. All in all, we were off to a great start.
Fast forward to Saturday morning and time to Fest! As a veteran fester, I was aware that we wanted to be both prepared but as lightly packed as we could to make ourselves portable in a crowd. With children this was quite a feat, but, again, I made myself proud with how well I was able to downsize everything I could fathom needing into just two bags and couple chair sacks. We took an adorable pre-Fest photo at the hotel and were ready to go! Because of car seats and the possiblity of a necessary quick exit, I drove and was able to find good, safe parking relatively close to the Fest. Things were certainly going my way! Little did I know, they were about to change.
It started with the mile-long walk from the parking spot. In my former life, after a couple mimosas, that would have been nothing. For tiny almost 3-year old legs it was the equivalent of a 10K. In my effort to "pack light," I only had one crappy umbrella stroller and a snugli - snugli was packed away and umbrella stroller was occupied by Bug so...carry the 30-pound toddler for half a mile it was. I just reminded myself I was burning off the crawfish monica calories I was soon to consume.
We arrive at the Fest at high noon. Sun blaring. The overcast Friday we arrived on had given way to a bright, sunshiny day. Usually, as a parent, bright sunshine is a good thing. Not. At. The. Fest. It was hot. It was bright. Did I mention it was noon - i.e., naptime.
As I always did, we hightailed it to the Acura stage and set up for Billy Joel, who would be taking the stage in just 5 short hours. 5 short hours that turned into 4 very long hours. We found semi-prime seats. At the largest stage at the Fest where the third-best-selling solo artist in America would soon take the stage for tens of thousands of his biggest fans. Did I mention Pumpkin hates crowds?
Also, did I mention it was hot? And bright? And that I had no umbrella? I did have both girls in adorable hats for just this purpose! Unfortunately, Bug thought hers was a snack and Pumpkin just hated hers for touching her. That's okay, at least she had sunglasses - dadgumit! Pack up and head to the JazzFest store for sunglasses and a hand-held fan. Alright, now we were ready.
Then it was time to stop at the Port-o-Potty. Pumpkin's first time. She's eye-level with the urinal. I'm freaking out trying to keep her from touching anything, by screaming like a maniac while simultaneously throwing my own body (as much as you can throw anything in a one square foot box) in front of anything urine-covered I see her reaching for. Bending over to assist a toddler with her clothes in a Port-o-Potty is impossible. Also, when it is 80 degrees outside it is 180 degrees in a Port-o-Potty and apparently the laws of Port-o-Potty science are that tiny children suck out all of the oxygen, leaving you to die if you stay in there too long. Somehow I was able to hold her off the ground and have her aim mostly into the potty.
Back to home base and Pumpkin is hungry. And hot. Her cute hat was just a memory and her usually beautiful curls were a sweaty mess clinging to her neck. Of course, becasue I just assumed she would wear the cute hat all day, I hadn't even brought a clip for her hair. Luckily, others in my crew were prepared. I mopped up her hair and strapped her back in the stroller and Bug back on my chest to find some grub.
While the crawfish monica had my mouth watering, I was on the hunt for something my extremely-sensitive-to-spice child would eat. Creole chicken and rice sounds acceptable, unspicy, and Pumpkin LOVES rice and chicken! Score. Well, despite having absolutely no taste and looking like a bowl of various shades of white, Pumpkin found it to be so hot that she started to cry. Then she wiped her eye. Then she got sand in her eye. Then she cried some more. Then I tried to pour bottled water in her eye. Then she cried some more. During all this crying, unbeknownst to mama (or at least unrealized at the time) her 5,000 SPF sunscreen was being washed from her sweet little soon-to-be-red cheeks.
She's hot. She's hungry. She's uncomfortable. And she's crying. Loudly. While people are trying to listen to music. I put her back in my crappy stroller, which now has a wonky wheel from being dredged through wet sand and I strap Bug back on my chest and high tail it across the entire Fairground to the only air conditioning in the entire land. On the way over Pumpkin never quits screaming long enough to take a breath and Bug falls asleep, on my chest, with her hat in her mouth and her head banging around like a rag doll. A female security guard screams at me to pick up the baby's head and cover it, which was just about enough to send the tears on the brim of my eyes rolling right down my face. But I grit my teeth and keep pushing my wonky stroller toward cool air.
As soon as we arrive at the obscure air conditioned stage, Pumpkin curls up on a folding chair and falls asleep, exhausted from screaming, heat, and hunger. Bug is sleeping on my chest. I am trapped, alone, listening to a Jewish Polka Brass Band. At least I was finally getting to listen to some music. Sort of.
An hour later we attempt to join the crowd at Acura again. By this time it had grown to about 100,000 (very little, if any, exaggeration). The screaming commenced immediately. Repeat eye-rubbing, sand, crying, eye-washing, crying, rinse and repeat.
Where is Bug during all of this, you might ask, well, she is rolling around on a blanket eating grass and trying to find any open beer she can. Apparently my baby is obsessed with beer. Who knew?
I'm a mess. My girls are a mess. It's still an hour until Billy Joel. I haven't had anything decent to eat and have yet to finish one beer and other than the Jewish Polka Band, I had heard no music.
I finally give up. I fought for 4 hours but I was no match for Pumpkin. TKO.
As soon as we were outside the gates, she was all smiles again. The next day we didn't even dare try to Fest again - we did brunch and bugs instead. How could I go wrong here? Well, not checking the weather, I was again totally unprepared when we were caught on Canal Street in a thunderstorm. So I did as any good mother would do, pulled the top down on the wonky stroller and let a friend push Pumpkin, then I took off my shoes, put a grocery bag over Bug's head and ran for the closest bar!
Despite all the insanity, it was certainly a weekend of memories with good friends and family. It won't be long before I will wish for Sunday night when I enjoyed fine dining with one arm because I had a very tired girl sleeping on my chest (and the baby on Nona's check next to me). One day I'll be able to enjoy JazzFest without my babies, but I will never really enjoy it again like I once did, because then they will be grown and enjoying it with someone else probably and I'll be like all those folks who walked by and looked at me with knowing, longing smiles and told me how precious my girls were. They were right, they are precious. And even if I don't get MOTY this go round, I'm still the luckiest girl in the world because I get to be their mom.
In the meantime, I need to check Billy Joel's calendar, because Pumpkin did inform us she would have enjoyed JazzFest better with only 3 people.
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