Feb 15, 201309:13 AM
Joie d'Eve

Living, loving, laughing, and learning in the new New Orleans

Family Injury Report from Carnival

Every so often I have these moments of what can only be described as hubris: Yes, I will bake cute gingerbread favors for all the kids in Ruby’s class less than two weeks after giving birth. Yes, I will go shopping during the height of Christmas season with an exhausted, cranky baby and Ruby on a sugar-high. And then last week: Yes, I will go to Muses with Ruby and Georgia by myself.

 

The next morning, my childless co-workers straggled into the office looking hungover and tired, mumbling about the need for coffee, cheese and Advil. And I, despite having consumed only half a beer the night before (Ruby spilled the other half), can guarantee that I felt worse than all of them. My legs ached. My arms ached. My back ached worst of all. Carnival season is an endurance test for every New Orleanian, but for parents, it involves a lot less drinking, dancing and partying and a lot more lifting, hauling and planning (the amount of puke is about the same in both cases, though for different reasons).

 

Injuries are sustained all around, too. My Carnival bag that I bring to all parades includes Band-Aids, hand sanitizer and an ice pack (bonus: the ice pack keeps the Capri Suns cool). Ruby has, just this season alone, been hit in the head with a bunch of heavy beads, cut her finger on the edge of a broken plastic trumpet, been poked in the eye with a spear and skinned her elbow scrabbling for a frisbee (she got it). And I, in addition to the general aches and pains associated with lugging approximately 65 pounds of my offspring around, have been kicked in the head by kids on ladders, hit in the face by beads intended for Ruby on my shoulders and had a candy apple stuck in my hair (see also: Ruby on my shoulders). The youngest member of the family, Georgia, got off injury-free this year, but the oldest member, my father, slipped on a pair of Mardi Gras beads while leaving the Banks Street Bar and bashed up his cheek and shoulder.

 

All of us rallied, though. Ruby takes it all in stride, as long as she has cool throws to show at the end of it. I am used to the Carnival casualties, having been poked in the eye with a spear a time or two myself as a kid – I think my worst injury was getting smashed in the face by a trombone during Endymion when I was 9. And my dad says his face hurts less than his legs do from “dancing with every pretty girl in the joint” at some French Quarter dive.

 

We’re all taking it easy over the next few days, soothing ourselves with bad TV; Advil and Tylenol in alternating doses as warranted; strong coffee; hot baths; and, for my dad at least, good brandy. But a little soreness is not going to keep any of us away from the parade route next year. We all love Carnival far too much – even if that love hurts.

Reader Comments:
Feb 15, 2013 11:22 am
 Posted by  maddy63

When I saw the article headline, I though oh no, was your family injured on the Carnival cruise? I am glad that was not the case.

Feb 15, 2013 11:34 am
 Posted by  pmrichard

Great article!! It shows just how much we (locals) really enjoy Mardi Gras! Where else in the country will someone go to an event, get battered and bruised, and then look forward to the next time!! BTW.....slightly blackened eye (Krewe d'Etat) and a few lumps on the head from a huge bag of big beads (Orpheus - and no, I didn't catch them. My husband was APALLED!!).....loved every second of it!!

Feb 15, 2013 01:09 pm
 Posted by  beaur

From several years of attending other types of parades, there are 2 ways to avoid the "candy apple" problem;

1. Buzzcut (my solution)
2. Hats

Takes only one caramel on a July day for that to sink in. :)

Grateful that parades up here do not involve (usually) thrown objects as my girls would most probably have major head trauma by now.

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Joie d'Eve

Living, loving, laughing, and learning in the new New Orleans

about

Eve is further proof, if any is needed, that New Orleans girls can never escape the city. After living here since the age of 3 and graduating from Ben Franklin High School, Eve moved to Columbia, Mo., where she received bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism and became truly, unhealthily obsessed with grammar.

She had originally intended to strike out to New York City and work in the cutthroat magazine industry there, but after Katrina, Eve felt a strong pull to return home, to her roots, her family, her waterlogged and struggling city – and a much more forgiving work atmosphere that would allow her to skip a routine of everyday makeup and size 0 designer label business suits and enjoy the occasional cocktail or three with an absurdly fattening lunch. She moved back home in January 2008 and lives in Mid-City with her two daughters, Ruby and Georgia; her stepson, Elliot; and her husband, Robert Peyton.

Eve blogs about the joys and struggles of living in post-Katrina New Orleans, the unique problems and delights of raising a child in such a diverse and challenging city – including her experiences with the public education system – and her always entertaining and extremely colorful family.

Eve has won numerous writing awards, including the Pirates Alley Faulkner Society Gold Medal, the Society of Professional Journalists Mark of Excellence award for column-writing and Press Club of New Orleans awards for her Editor’s Note in New Orleans Homes & Lifestyles and for this blog, most recently winning the award for "Best Feature Affiliated Blog."

She welcomes comments, advice, empty flattery, recipes, drink invitations and – most especially – grammatical or linguistic debates.

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