Well, Anna got to experience her first Mardi Gras parade today. I personally am not a huge fan of Mardi Gras or going to parades, but Jack wanted to at least walk around the parade route with the baby before it started, so that we could see who was out there and so we could show off the baby. And that was fine in theory, but after we got down there we ended up snagging a pretty good spot, so we (sigh) stayed for the parade.

Anna actually seemed to get a kick out of it. For people who are not familiar with Mardi Gras parades, these are absolutely nothing like your Thanksgiving or Easter parades where the people in the floats smile sweetly and wave and look pretty. Oh no, these floats are full of drunk men in masks and costumes, and are surrounded by throngs of screaming men, women, and children, all clamoring "Throw me something, mister!" in the hopes of being able to grab a strand of cheesy gaudy plastic beads. It's silly, really. Totally absurd.

And yeah, I was screaming and yelling as loud as any of them, snagging beads from the hands of small children and elbowing grandmothers out of the way. I held my baby up shamelessly and begged for stuffed animals for her. I can't explain it. You just get... caught up in it all.

We didn't stay for the whole parade though, because after about six floats Anna was about to lose it. Can you say, "Overstimulated?" In fact she passed out about three seconds after I strapped her into the car seat.

Funny thing though: I was reading my mother's journal, where she describes going to Mardi Gras in New Orleans with me as a baby, and her difficulties in finding a discreet place to nurse. I read it after we got home from the parade and I just cracked up, because while we were waiting for the parade to start, Anna started getting a bit fussy. So I told Jack that she was probably hungry and needed to nurse. "Ummm, the car's not too far away," he said.

Silly man. He really should know better by now. I fixed him with a Steely Glare. "I am NOT going to walk all the way to the car just to feed my child," I responded. "It is my civil right according to the laws of this state to breastfeed my baby!"

He muttered something about flashing boobs for beads. I sat down on the asphalt, tucked Anna up close to me, and got her latched on without anyone having a clue. It was dark fer chrissakes! But then a really nice thing happened. A lady who was next to us was monitoring her three kids, and looked over at me and said, "Aw, she's sleeping?" Because it looked like I was just cradling Anna close. "No, she's eating," I replied with a smile. The lady then said, "Oh! Then use this chair!" (She'd brought fold up chairs for her kids which they were not using.) I accepted the offer gratefully, because darnit, that asphalt was COLD on my butt!

Anyway, Jack managed to survive me nursing in public yet again. 37 years ago my mother had to go into a bathroom to nurse me (EEEWWWW Gross!!!), and today I nursed my daughter on the side of the road waiting for the parade.

In a way though, it makes me sad. I mean, I nurse Anna when she gets hungry, and while I do try to stay relatively discreet, I don't really give a rat fig about where I do it as long as I and my daughter are comfortable, and I don't cover up with a blanket (she hates it and pulls it off anyway.) And in all of these past nine months, in all of the times that parts of my breast have been visible to the passing public, not once has anyone hassled me or ever told me that I wasn't allowed to nurse in public. Not once! God dammit, I memorized the law that protects my right to nurse in public! I have my spiel ready to rip on the first person that tries to segregate me or force me to leave! I know my rights! I have my Steely Look ready! I'm a Tough Bitch who can't be intimidated! Why won't anyone hassle me?

Sigh. It's so Not Fair.

***

Today's entry from 1999 is a pretty cool one, actually written by Kent Brewster (of Speculations fame) from when he and I went to Disney.

This day: 2001