I have tried for years to enjoy them. I go to a house right on St. Charles Avenue so I have a bathroom, food, and drinks, and a lovely home with a balcony and fenced in front yard to watch the parade from. I get to watch them from what is essentially like a suite at a sporting event. Every year I try to dip my foot in the pool of enjoyment along with everyone else. But every year I leave irritated and exhausted.
I'm so UN-New Orleanian.
I live in Metry...a suburb. I love that everything I do is within a five mile radius. My grocery store. The car wash. My gym. My church. My bar. I feel settled and at peace in my hood. The parades here are easier to get to and more kid-friendly. I can come and go as I like. I don't have to sit in traffic forever trying to find a parking spot just to walk another ten blocks to get to my destination.
Maybe it's the expansion of the crowds uptown that I don't love. I don't know many people. I'm in unfamiliar territory likely surrounded by people who are also in unfamiliar territory. It's not my hood. It's not their hood.
The older I get, the more content I am to stay in my place. I used to love traveling. I loved experiencing new things. I was on a date recently and the dude was telling me all the places he had been recently, his upcoming trips, and all the events he had attended around the city.
"You don't have kids, do you?" I asked.
The response was predictable.
Being a parent changes you in ways you can't anticipate. One day you're a carefree, adventurous person who loves going to uptown parades and holding baby alligators. Post kids, you find yourself in the bathroom at your favorite bar a few miles from your suburban apartment crying because you found out your son went to school without Valentines to distribute to his class and was the only one without.
I went to the dentist yesterday and caused my sweet dentist to worry. He made me a mouth guard over a year ago and had to make it twice as thick as normal because I grind my teeth so badly at night. I was destroying my teeth. And jaw. Unbeknownst to me, my jaw clicks every time I open it. It has for a while but I just thought it was something that everyone had. I finally addressed it on my last dental appointment thus causing my dentist to worry.
"How do you feel, Rebekah? Like emotionally?" He asked.
I stared at him blankly, feeling very unprepared to have a therapy session in a dentist's chair.
"I feel fabulous!" I finally responded.
"And how do you sleep?" He asked.
"Like a freakin' baby." I responded.
He looked puzzled. Because the evidence of my stress was in my super, unusually thick mouth guard that will not withstand much more of my grinding at night. And my TMJ will eventually cause me to be in a great amount of pain. To him, it was amazing that I wasn't sleeping poorly and wasn't in a serious state of anxiety. I guess I am that good at compartmentalizing. I reserve my stress only for nighttime grinding, apparently. And the occasional cry in the bathroom at the bar when I find out something distressing about my kids.
He prescribed me a muscle relaxer and neck/shoulder/head massages as often as I can afford them. I clearly am a walking time bomb. Who knew? My mouth guard and my dentist, that's who.
So my life is kinda different since I became a momma. I'm wary of uptown parades. I grind the hell out of my teeth. I receive unexpected therapy sessions from my dentist. I cry in bathrooms when I think about my son being hurt.
And if I do hold a baby alligator, I will be worrying about the diseases I am catching and whether he has brushed his teeth.
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