It's Raining on Our Sunny Parade
We're missing the parade today. It's the annual St. Patrick's Day parade, and it's always held on St. Patrick's Day, not the weekend before or after, because, hey, in Kansas City we like to take off work in the middle of the week and get our drink on. In the morning at my cousin's pre-parade breakfast.
But there will be no such nonsense this year since everybody in our house is sick, which I'm sure you heard quite enough of in yesterday's blog. I have to share one story, though, about why missing this parade makes me feel so bad.
First of all, we were supposed to be in the parade, and there was going to be a float and everything. (There still will be a float, but we won't be on it, or walking behind it.)
At a different parade on Saturday, the boys decided to watch from the sidelines, where they would get candy tossed at them.
I asked Richie if he wanted to be in that parade, and he asked, "Will I be on a float?"
"No," I answered.
"Then no," he said.
I told him he might not be on the float in Tuesday's parade, either, but he was willing to take his chances. Probably figured he could talk his way on board one way or another. So he's devastated that he's missing the float parade.
As for J.J., I'm not even telling him what's going on.
On Saturday, only Johnny went to the parade because the other two were still sick and contagious (and J.J. was broken out in hives). He went with my parents and came home wearing a plastic shamrock hat. Bustling in the door, he said, "A man in the parade walked by and put this on my head. I didn't even know him." Then he cracked up.
I'd been assuring J.J. all day that he was going to a parade, too, on Tuesday. But by "Tuesday," he thought I meant, "at any moment."
So when Johnny came home wearing that hat, J.J. announced, "I'm going to a poor-ade. And a man's going to put a hat on my head. Ma's going to take me."
Then he went out front and stood on the sidewalk, his hands behind back, and waited. Johnny and Richie were playing football out there but eventually came inside, and I sent Johnny back out to get J.J.
J.J. came in crying. "I'm waiting for Ma to take me to the poor-ade," he wailed.
"It's on Tuesday," I explained.
And now we're not even going because everybody is sick and lethargic. So the parade is totally rained on, as far as we're concerned. In reality it's supposed to be 80 and sunny. I also have a feeling the boys are going to wake up feeling a-okay. But if we went to the parade, they'd fall asleep mid-march.
Anyway, I know this is small potatoes compared to other things. Still, I guess this just isn't our lucky day.
But there will be no such nonsense this year since everybody in our house is sick, which I'm sure you heard quite enough of in yesterday's blog. I have to share one story, though, about why missing this parade makes me feel so bad.
First of all, we were supposed to be in the parade, and there was going to be a float and everything. (There still will be a float, but we won't be on it, or walking behind it.)
At a different parade on Saturday, the boys decided to watch from the sidelines, where they would get candy tossed at them.
I asked Richie if he wanted to be in that parade, and he asked, "Will I be on a float?"
"No," I answered.
"Then no," he said.
I told him he might not be on the float in Tuesday's parade, either, but he was willing to take his chances. Probably figured he could talk his way on board one way or another. So he's devastated that he's missing the float parade.
As for J.J., I'm not even telling him what's going on.
On Saturday, only Johnny went to the parade because the other two were still sick and contagious (and J.J. was broken out in hives). He went with my parents and came home wearing a plastic shamrock hat. Bustling in the door, he said, "A man in the parade walked by and put this on my head. I didn't even know him." Then he cracked up.
I'd been assuring J.J. all day that he was going to a parade, too, on Tuesday. But by "Tuesday," he thought I meant, "at any moment."
So when Johnny came home wearing that hat, J.J. announced, "I'm going to a poor-ade. And a man's going to put a hat on my head. Ma's going to take me."
Then he went out front and stood on the sidewalk, his hands behind back, and waited. Johnny and Richie were playing football out there but eventually came inside, and I sent Johnny back out to get J.J.
J.J. came in crying. "I'm waiting for Ma to take me to the poor-ade," he wailed.
"It's on Tuesday," I explained.
And now we're not even going because everybody is sick and lethargic. So the parade is totally rained on, as far as we're concerned. In reality it's supposed to be 80 and sunny. I also have a feeling the boys are going to wake up feeling a-okay. But if we went to the parade, they'd fall asleep mid-march.
Anyway, I know this is small potatoes compared to other things. Still, I guess this just isn't our lucky day.
posted by Midwest Mama at 6:53 PM
2 Comments:
Bridget,
I am sorry to hear that life is raining on your parade (or more accurately, that of your boys), but "wearin' the green" should not be about the hue of the faces. It should likewise be noted that the Irish are notoriously cranky when ill (and cantankerous otherwise).
Unfortunately, your children are far too young for the tradtional Irish cures to any and all disease.
At any rate, Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit, and best wishes for the speey recovery of the family.
I'm sorry you had to stay in this year. I am to, in solidarity with you. We took corned beef and cabbage, carrots and potatoes over to eat with Nana and are watching old Irish movies tonight. It's kind of the true irish way.
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