Oh, sure, there are the girls dressed like a Cosmo cover in 40-degree weather, warmed only by Budweiser and a burning desire to attract members of the male species more intent on goose-pimply cleavage than evidence of a brain. Not that I notice these girls from under my wool socks, tights, jeans, undershirt, sweater, parka, hat and gloves.
The parade route runs along the river, and the city divides the river bank up into narrow lots, which are divvied out by lottery. By mid-afternoon the street is closed, and the undulating route transforms into miles' worth of gumbo, grilling, music and laughter. Kids run about making new friends when not begging for cotton candy, gaudy hats and 50-cent light wands being hawked for $10.Last year, a God-sent lady from one of the nearby lots walked over to our group to say she thought a little boy from our collection had wandered down the street and was in the hands of a police officer. Just as I was opening my mouth to say all of ours were accounted for, thank-you-very-much, I realized Connor -- who I knew was RIGHT THERE eating the hotdog I had just handed him -- was, well, not there.
I walked at
least a block through a mass of humanity before I spotted my 3-year-old in the hands of the officer. He was perfectly calm, having happily followed a cart full of flashing lights.This year -- thank you, Jesus -- all children remained accounted for. Aside from eating his cotton candy with black mittens and walking down the street insistent on balancing a stuffed chicken on his head, Connor was pretty mild-mannered.
Madeline on the other hand was feeling particularly flamboyant
ant. She fell in love with Kelly's Mardi Gras mask and after asking 5 to the infinite power number of times for her own, which wasn't possible at the time, Kelly allowed Madeline to wear it to the parade. (The whole reason for gathering is to get there several hours before the parade arrives.) I thought she'd get tired of wearing it, but that didn't happen for the first several hours.Then, as evening arrived, Madeline took it into her head that she and Carl (Gene and Kelly's son) needed to tango. About a month ago, while flipping stations, I had watched 10 minutes of a dance competition on PBS -- I'm pretty sure I'll dance like that in heaven; the rest of you can amble politely in choir robes -- and apparently Madeline had paid close attention.
So she and and a more-than-
game Carl clenched hands and began to march up and down the street, swiveling their upturned chins so dramatically a Bobble-head doll would fear whiplash. It was classic, and when I wasn't laughing I was thinking how lovely it is she's still so free just to be.She wants to tango. So she tangos. Never mind that she's not sure how. Never mind several hundred people are walking by.
A girl must dance.
A boy must balance a chicken on his head.
And all is well.
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11 comments:
I can't even tell you how much I love that last picture.
Do you think she was hearing Hannah Montana in her head?
I want to be Madeleine when I grow up.
Or maybe just balance a chicken on my head.
Love this! Don't you envy their lack of self-consciousness??? I know I do!
Between that hilarious balancing a chicken on his head, and that beautiful girl BUSTIN' A MOVE, you have some CUTE kids. And they seem to have lots-o-personality. Wonder where that comes from? : )
I love these photos - all of them - but the look on his face, under that hat and chicken is the funniest thing I've seen in ages.
I wish you hadn't said gumbo. I can't even remember the last time I had genuine gumbo but I'm sure it was when I still lived in Texas and visited relatives in Louisiana. Sigh.
I'll definitely be one of the choir robe clad amblers. But I'll be keeping an eye out for you! :-)
It makes me uncomfortable to see girls like this too, especially if I'm with my husband but I have to remind myself, they need Jesus and He loves them too. So instead of rolling my eyes or making a snide remark (at least I try not to)I try to lift up a prayer for them. You see I used to be one with less cleavage :) until someone put aside their anger or jealousy or fear and began to teach me and accept me where I was at the moment. This is a very very hard thing to do!! I'm so grateful for the woman that did reach out to me.
On the bright side - your kids are adorable! And I'm glad you enjoyed your day.
God Bless you and your family in a might way.
Mardi Gras in Galveston is tamer than New Orleans but we still took our children only to select events and left very early in the day. That was when we lived in Texas, not NYC.
Still, the beads and the dubloons are fun.
Chris, when I went back and read again, it did strike me that I was being pretty judgemental about the freezing-but-sexy gals. So I toned it down. I'm chagrined.
Motherpie, the Shreveport event really is a family affair. We wouldn't expose them to something we considered harmful. I'm sure there are a lot of Mardi Gras celebrations one would be wise to steer clear of though.
No problem. I hope I didn't come on too strong. If I did, please forgive me.
I just know how hard it is for someone to feel comfortable in a situation like that. I'm ashamed I was ever that way. But by the grace of God and the love of a woman that was full of God's love, my life has completely turned around. God is so good.
This is what I get for not using Bloglines! How did I miss this post? (Well, that seems to be self-explanatory, doesn't it?)
My dear, sweet grandmother used to live in Shreveport and would run out into the street to collect the beads for me every year. I can just see her now . . .
Fun, fun pictures!!!
what a lovely post...
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