Happy Mardi Gras, Y'all!

Pumpkin celebrated her first Carnival the way any little Louisianan would – being pelted in the head by plastic beads that were being lodged at her from a moving trailer full of drunk revelers! That’s right, we took Pumpkin to the Children’s Mardi Gras parade yesterday to celebrate her 10-month birthday. Happy Mardi Gras, y’all.

As we anticipated, Aly definitely enjoyed her first parade. The decision to go was not an easy one – Pumpkin has had a touch of a cold for the last week, hasn’t slept too well, and just generally was not in the best of moods on Sunday. She wouldn’t nap, wouldn’t eat, and wouldn’t really smile most of the day. Add that to the fact I wasn’t sure what she would think of crowds or loud music.

Well, we finally decided to go meet some friends and no sooner did we arrive then a smile crept across her little face. We danced to the music, shouted “Throw Me Sumthin’ Mista’” and caught and wore lots of colorful beads. She did actually get pelted in the head at least once that I know of and she didn’t even flinch! That’s my girl!

The funniest part of the whole day was that about half-way through the parade Pumpkin passed out. As evidenced by the look on her face, all that partying and her lack of sleep quickly caught up with her. She didn’t fuss or cry. Instead, she laid her head on my shoulder and fell asleep in my arms, covered in beads and just steps away from the street party going by. Her peaceful home and comfy crib couldn’t even compete with the exhausted satisfaction of a girl celebrating the Mardi Gras! My biceps have doubled in size after holding a 24-pound baby for half an hour with no reprieve.

Despite her not feeling great, the weekend was full of other fun including discovery of Pumpkin’s latest favorite food – ravioli! This was really the first time that she took the initiative to feed herself and boy did she love it. She ate every last, disgusting, messy bite by hand. She would pick each ravioli up one-by-one, squeeze it through her little fingers, shove her entire first in her mouth, and then look at me and crack up laughing. Ten raviolis took about half an hour to eat and created at least that long of a clean-up, but I still cannot tell you who laughed more – me or Pumpkin. I guess for now it looks like ravioli has made the menu for her first birthday!

Comments

Her profession's her religion; Her sin is her lifelessness

Mother's Day 2019 was perfectly boring. It was an overcast, eat too much after church, take a nap, and go to the library kind of afternoon and I could not have asked for anything more. Mother's Day always brings with it bittersweet memories of the two little loves that allow me to celebrate this occasion. As kids do, they are getting big. I did not get one Mother's Day gift that had a hand print on it. It was a tinge sad. Like Mother's Day, the nearing end of school also makes me wax nostalgic. How could they be so old? Am I doing all the things to make them healthy, successful and most of all happy? I have been reading and thinking a lot about Grace lately. In the context of mothering, I need a lot of it; yet, until lately I'm not sure I had a real understanding of it (or as much of an understanding as one can have of something like Grace). Anyone who really knows me knows that I am a doer, a pleaser, an achiever, and a ball of anxious worry hidden behind...

Hello! The Phone is Ringing So I Say Hello!

I’m not sure what I expected, really. I guess I thought that when Pumpkin officially crossed the one year threshold into toddler-hood that things miraculously got easier. I had a little parenting-confidence and puffed my chest out just a little as I slowly toddled with her, grasping onto my index finger, to the doctor’s office for her one year appointment (see video for an idea of how slow slow is). I sat proudly in the “well baby” room (a place we haven’t spent much time) remembering the days I sat in that same room crying, looking frantically around for a spare diaper and praying they wouldn’t call her name before I could unhook her from her carseat (which took a long time back then) and changed her diaper. One year later here I was. We had come so far. I was proud of us and I looked at those new mothers with a little knowing pity. In all my one year of wisdom, I sat there glowing with the realization that the hard times were behind us. I didn’t have a “baby” anymore, I had a toddle...

Salute Her When Her Birthday Comes

So, I'm a year older than last time I posted. Birthdays have always been a time of introspection for me. I have a natural tendency to get stuck in my own head anyway. Occasions like birthdays only make it worse. It didn't help that this year I turned 33 on the same weekend as the Inauguration and MLK day. I'm sure you're asking yourself what any of this has to do with...well, anything. Let me start with 33 - or, as my sister-in-law put it in a text to me, "the age of Jesus." That's right, as depressing as it might seem, I keep dwelling on the fact that I'm now the age that Jesus was when he died. 33. He died on a cross to save all mankind. I, on the other hand, was glad my children got out the door this morning without too much unidentifiable crust on their faces. Then there is MLK, who died in his thirties for the cause of all of humanity - peace, equality, love. And then there's the Inauguration. Now, whether you voted fo...

Sugar and Spice

Search This Blog