A Mommy Story

Woo-hoo! St. Pat’s Day!

OK, now that I got that out of my system, I can continue on. I love St. Patrick’s Day. Those who have seen my last name can tell I’m just a wee bit Irish. Mostly Irish, truthfully.

I find that I fit many of the Irish stereotypes out there: I have a hard to pronounce “Mc” name, I love corned beef and cabbage, soda bread, and potatoes, I’m very pale skinned, I love Irish music (I used to be an Irish dancer), and I used to have a temper that makes people afraid of me when I’m really angry. Oh, and I can drink most people under the table. Sure, they’re stereotypes, but I don’t care – it’s who I am, and I’m proud of it.

Cordy is, of course, half Irish. She has all of the looks, most of the temper, eats all of the Irish food, and has a love of Irish music. Not sure about the drinking part yet, but I’ll bet she’s got her mommy’s whiskey blood.

Last year I took her to the Columbus parade when she was just five months old. She loved it, and everyone adored her in her mommy-made dress.

It was the first year I wasn’t out at a pub somewhere living it up. Even the year I was pregnant I was at a pub, although not drinking anything stronger than OJ & Sprite. Mommyhood changes everything, eh?

This year we went to the parade again, but I didn’t have the time to make a dress for her. Ah well, it was 35 degrees this year, so no one would have seen it under her coat, and she would have just been cold.

Amazingly, though, there was abundant sunshine that took the chill out of the air. It was great to see all of the people gathered for the parade. The street was a sea of green clothing and accessories, pasty-white faces with red cheeks and noses, Irish flags, and one confused Somali family walking past, bewildered at the sight.

The bright, clear day added to the upbeat nature of the parade. Everyone was in good spirits, including this leprechaun and his son.

Cordy was patient in watching the parade, although about halfway through (when the drums and bagpipes had already passed) she got upset. I put her up on my shoulders, which worked for a little while.

I let her down so we could pet the Irish wolfhound near us, but she tried to run out into the street, which earned her a trip right back into the stroller.

We also got to see some Irish dancers. I told Cordy to make a mental note of how they were dancing, because I fully intend for her to be an Irish dancer someday. (Kidding, folks – if she doesn’t want to dance, I won’t pressure her to. Well, not too much.)

The only problem we have with St. Patrick’s Day is that it’s not celebrated by the entire family. Aaron’s mother passed away suddenly 10 years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, so naturally he isn’t into the celebratory mood.

I have no intention of ever forcing him to participate in the festivities, although he’ll usually join in for the drinking part. It’s tough to fully celebrate when I know he’s having such a rough day emotionally, and I feel helpless when it comes to making him feel better. I’m trying to arrange a movie night tonight, just to get his mind off the real world for a little bit.

Hope everyone has a great St. Patrick’s Day!