Oh man you guys. So my family has this one* big tradition. And my bonus family has this one big tradition. And that’s awesome!
Except that they fall on the same weekend every. single. year. Which is not actually a big problem, as they both just involve walking around places and having people buy me embarrassing amounts of food and take cute pictures of my kids.
*That’s a lie. It’s so many more than one. We hold most things holy, including death dates and days we came home from the hospital. My husband had NO IDEA the emotional minefield he was marrying into. And good luck finding a week where I don’t expect to have a big weepy family gathering.
So this weekend we did Zoo ala Carte with my bonus family, and Irish Fest with my growing up family. AND WE ATE ALL THE THINGS.
Literally. All of the things.
On Friday Buzz and I abandoned the children with various grandparents to get the maximum adult alone time enjoyment out of Irish Fest.
(That sounded dirty. I assure you, the only dirty things that happened this weekend were the sheer number of fried things I consumed.)
I love taking the kids to Irish Fest,and I think it’s super important for their development as my children that they realize this is essentially an obligation which can never be abrogated. But they can get that on Sunday. On Friday, mommy gets to eat by herself and shop with minimal whining and no worrying about where people are. (Buzz is a big boy. He can find his way back to the car. I’m pricing Aran sweaters over here.)
There was a lot of fried things. I don’t even know what this was, but Buzz is adorable, isn’t he?
There’s a lot of music and beer at Irish Fest. And sometimes it leads to spontaneous family-wide dancing.
Every year for as long as I can remember there has been at least one torrential downpour during Irish Fest. One year we ended up crashing a wedding because we ran to get away from the storm. One year I got stuck in a tent that was literally collapsing and there was broken glass and random shit going down and it was REAL yo. And every year, I forget to bring an umbrella.
I bring an umbrella and my husband convinces me “It’s totally not going to rain! I checked the radar! We don’t need it!” AND THEN IT RAINS ON MY CHEESE CURDS.
And my head.
I’ll let you pick which one happened.
It was an absolutely gorgeous night.
The next day we Zoo ala Carte and again, so many different things you can fry and are amazingly tasty. Which the one exception of the sad sad loss of my chocolate mousse shooters, it was perfect.
Buddy was so excited he was doing the Titanic stance.
YOU GUYS. Loaded tater tots. THEY’RE THE FUTURE.
Despite the fact that his grandfather offers us literally everything in the world this weekend, Joey chose some popcorn from the main gate. Of course.
Handsome men. Sensually eating thai noodles.
We’ve had a rough week with Squeaks around here. Saturday was the first day she really had her personality back, and it was such a joy to see my silly, beautiful little girl again.
Joey finally acquiesced to a brownie, and went at it with two utensils. That’s my boy.
Sunday we went back to Irish Fest for the whole day, this time as responsible parents with children in tow.
We started with Mass, which is, I’m pretty sure is Jesus’ favorite Mass to attend in the Eucharist.
The kids were super happy and well behaved, mostly because attending Mass in a concert venue is super fun and different and Joey loves pretending to be the presider. Keep that up kid, I don’t want you to get married.
It was my niece’s first Irish Fest as a non-fetus, and she was walking around being so adorable and I could barely handle it.
My children? Also adorable. My mom made t-shirts for all the kids with their Gaelic names on them. My niece and Buddy were legit, but frankly I think someone just phonetically decided to change Eva since it’s not terribly Gaelic to start with.
Seriously guys, I can’t tell you how awesome it was to have my kid back to normal.
Or, you know, normal for them.
It was a beautiful weekend.