How You Do, Eliza Camille?

by CajunKate


(Note: The title of this post is a little nod to Eliza Camille's Cajun heritage. In Cajun country, "Hey! How you do?" is the equivalent of "Hi! How are you?")

So on Sunday the 'rents and I made our way down to NOLA to take a gander at the Zah-Zah. Finally! and Hallelujah! The trip down was fairly uneventful. This was mostly due to the fact that the Mayor and First Lady had treated me to the breakfast buffet at Shoney's, so I was lolling around in the back seat in food coma.

The Texas bound lanes of I-10 were jam packed with Hurricane Ike traffic: returning evacuees, military convoys, electrical company trucks, tree removal company trucks, flat bed trailers filled with industrial generators, Red Cross vehicles, and Salvation Army vans. You could almost hear the collective sigh of NOLAites and a chorus of "Better you than me!" aimed at Houstonians. The east bound lane was clear sailing with a bit of heavy traffic in Baton Rouge. I should have recognized the lack of traffic jams in BR for the bad omen that it was. More on that later.


We arrived at Eliza's new home at about 2:00 PM. Of course, we came bearing gifts. Onesies? Pacifiers? Diapers? Hell no! We're Cajuns! We brought boudin and cracklins from Best Stop in Scott, and I brought one of my signature cakes and one of Melissa's favorites, a chocolate pistachio cake. (All requested by Melissa, I might add. This is what happens when a NOLA girl meets a Cajun boy, people.)


From across the street, I spied a sign on the door. I couldn't see what it said exactly. But it had large red print, and I could make out the word "NO." Upon closer inspection the entire message red "NO flash photography! (Violators will be forced to change newborn diapers!)" Har-de-har-har, BDaigle! You'd think the boy would be so exhausted he wouldn't have time to make signs to harrass his favorite sister. Little brothers, hmmph! They grow up, but they still find time and ways to get back at you for treating them as your living baby doll. Can I help it that he came along when I was eight and at the height of my baby doll obsession?


And now, the photo essay!

Eliza Camille was sleepin' and swingin'' when we arrived.

I defy you to resist the urge to devour her whole!

I probably lasted about 6.7 seconds before I was all, "Alright! How do I get my babay out of this swing contraption so I can hold her?" I distinctly remember heading toward the door with my delicious new babay while calling out, "Okay! See you guys later!" but, alas, Melissa insisted that I couldn't take Eliza home with me. What is she? Like her mother or something? Oh...darn.

Eventually, I begrudgingly relinquished Eliza to her Ma-Mere. These people and their outrageous demands, I tell ya.

Oh no, Miss Eliza. Those Ma-Mere boobs you seem to be gazing upon so longingly are long, long closed for business, hon.

Somehow Pa-Pere managed to elbow me aside to get in some face time. The nerve!

Oh-duh-lay! Look at my most precious yummy baby on my lap! (I want to kiss the computer screen right now!)

Miss Eliza awake and in her papa's arms

I think she's looking for me. Absolutely, she's looking for her most favoritest aunt EVER! (Yeah, that's right! I said it! Take that, Aunt Michelle and Aunt Kim!)

Yummy babay! Ripe for eating up with kisses!

Not a happy camper! At this point, I remembered...

"Oh, yeah! I don't have kids because they eventually do THIS!"

All good things must come to an end, and so at about 4:30 PM, we headed out. I convinced Dad to let me drive, so he could get in an after-baby nap. On the way home, Tim and Jen began texting me and letting me know that the remnants of Ike were wreaking havoc on the greater Columbus area- terrible wind, downed trees, electricity out. Of course, I texted back a snarky, "HA! Enjoy your Ike, suckers!" (It's all done out of love, people.)

The drive home was going just swimmingly...then we ran into downpours from a cold front. Then we got to Baton Rouge. Then we came to a DEAD stop. ("Ah, yes! Now THIS is the Baton Rouge I know and hate!" I think was my exact thought.) The only good thing about the situation was that we were in the one area of Baton Rouge that I am actually familiar with, and so I was able to navigate us to the alternate route of Highway 190. Our little delay and re-routing added TWO hours to the return trip.

As we bore down on Lafayette, Dad asked if we'd like to stop and eat at Prejean's. This sounded like a fine idea to me, not only because Prejean's is consistently delicious, but because they had what I really, really needed- MERLOT! Yep, my butt had barely grazed the seat before I was yelling out to the waitress, "Hey there, glass of Merlot, please! And keep 'em comin'!" Have I mentioned that driving through Baton Rouge, and more specifically the LSU campus, in a downpour to escape an epic traffic jam made me a wee bit grumpy? A teensy bit pissy? Well, Merlot cures aaaaallllll of that!

Which brings us to the moral of this post- I have so much wisdom to bestow upon Eliza Camille, not the least of which is the POWER of Merlot! Although I might be better off starting with something else...I mean, I'm just thinking aloud here, but babies don't drink, right? Maybe I better let Melissa and Burt take care of that whole "raising a baby" thing after all.