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.

Meet The Rockers!

So this little vid is pure gold. It's destined to be a source of shame and misery to a teenaged Little Man Clan, particularly Max. God, I can hardly wait!

Surprise! You Got Old!

So, tell me if I'm misinterpreting here, but it seems someone turned thirty!

All the Prudhommians (except Jen who lives up in Ohio), their spouses, and offspring made the trek down to NOLA this past Saturday to attend BDaigle's surprise 30th birthday party. Burt's actual birthday isn't until the 28th, so kudos to Melissa for choosing a date that was sure to arouse no suspicion on his part. The mayor, first lady, Alex, and I all rode down to the big city together in the Vue (which is finally out of the shop *yay!*). Now, I love a surprise party... um, let me rephrase that... I love a surprise party where the honoree is actually surprised. This was one of those. I videotaped the big reveal, and I love Burt's reaction, but the "classic Alex" moment at the :53 mark is pretty good, too. If you listen closely, right after Burt says, "I wasn't expecting this!" you can hear my dear husband say, "That's kinda the point." Sorry, ladies, he's taken.

The party was a ton o' fun. Lots of delicious food and an impromptu concert on the back deck by The Rockers (a.k.a. the Little Man Clan and Noah). I do have video of this spectacular to be uploaded at a later date. I know...the anticipation is killing you! Well, in the meantime, amuse yourself by watching a little movie I put together of Burt's celebratory event.



Happy birthday, Burt! We love you!

The party was great but even better, Mom and Dad had sprung for a hotel room for Alex and me. This was very nice as I was, apparently, the only person to over-imbibe (damn Melissa's beautiful but oversized wine glasses!) at the birthday celebration. It was nice to only have a few blocks to traverse before I could sprawl out on a bed and beg Alex to go find me a Diet Coke. The next morning Dad and I (miraculously for me) got up and went to mass at St. Ann's. Turns out that the 9:30 mass is the children's mass, so there was a lot of off-key singing by the children's choir. This was forgivable and cute since they're kids. But we had to sit behind some chick with an LSU shirt on sporting the slogan "A Southerner's dream, a Northerner's wish" or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever. I had to pray really hard for forgiveness 'cause I rolled my eyes and threw up a little in my mouth when I read it. Maybe they're referring to north Louisianians. I think that's the only way that particular slogan is believable.

Afterward we headed back to the hotel where the baby Jesus had performed some divine intervention, as Alex was not only awake, but had packed the suitcase. Ladies and gentleman, I present to you The Miracle of the Sleep Inn! Then, we headed down to Russell's Marina Grill in West End for some grub. Burt and Byron met up with us there. I loooooove Russell's! I hoovered down two eggs, two pancakes, two pieces of sausage, and two pieces of toast. My hungover tummy was sooooo happy! We had a good time visiting, especially with Burt whom I miss desperately. Ah well, all the more reason to visit NOLA, right?

After brunch, we piled back into the Vue and hit the bricks for Lafayette. My body was cursing me the whole way, and I was so tired I actually tried a RockStar energy drink to try and wake myself up. What a rip off! It tasted like crap and didn't give me a buzz at all. When we hit our little hovel in Lafayette, I was ready to curl up on the couch, but oh no! The Zandy had other plans. You see, a few weeks ago, Ted and Molly offered us a free BBQ grill. Apparently, there was some bad customer service from John Deere, and they tried to make up for it by giving Ted a free grill which he then offered to us because he doesn't like cooking with gas, and, apparently, at Burt's party Alex had asked Ted if the offer was still good to which Ted replied, "First one to get to it, gets it!" Well, this must have set off Def-Con 5 with Alex. The thought of missing out on a free grill sent him into a flurry of activity when we got home that involved me calling our friends Greg and Clelie to see if they wanted our old grill and calling Ted and Molly to see if we could come pick up the free grill. By this point, I was draggin' some serious *ss, but I bravely set off with him to Greg and Cle's to drop off the old grill. Cle offered me wine. How could I refuse? It was a California red for goodness sake! I couldn't be rude. With a slight buzz coursing through my already hungover and exhausted physique, we headed over to Ted's to pick up the grill. We pulled it off without a hitch, and for my fortitude I was rewarded with Cane's chicken fingers. Finally, it was back to the hovel, where I inhaled my Cane's takeout and stumbled off to bed shortly thereafter. All in all, a great weekend. I got my drink on, and Alex got a new grill. For now, the Mottrams are a happy bunch. Stay tuned!

Who Dat!

So, my peeps, how was your weekend? Well, Alex and I ventured down to NOLA this past weekend. Lemme tell you all about it. This is the point at which you should stop reading and just skip to the pics (you knew that had to happen) if my ramblings annoy you. For those of you who choose to soldier on, off we go!

A little background as to how this trip came about- during the week of Thanksgiving, Alex's brother Pete told us he could hook us up with some Saints tickets for any of the remaining home games. But not just any tickets- SUITE tickets! Ho, ho, ho and how now, brown cow! I was all over that like white on rice! A chance to see how "the other half" lives? I'm on it! So, me being me, I called him during the week, and he endowed us with two free (hollah!) suite tickets to the Saints vs. Cardinals game. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Pete (and your bajillionaire friend).

The plan was to head out at noon on Saturday, drop by Slidell to visit Alex’s parents, pick up the tickets from them, go to the city to visit with my brother Burt and his wife Melissa, check out their new digs in NOLA, spend the night at their place, and go to the game on Sunday. Hot diggity doggedy, was I excited! But we're the Mottrams, so you know there was no escaping a few Son of a B***H!!! inducing moments along the way. Not wanting to disappoint us, the universe threw us a few curveballs right off the bat. First, I was running late. Okay, male readers, stop rolling your eyes and muttering Shocker! under your breath. In my defense, I am usually on time and ready to go at the appointed hour. Yes, really. So, at 12:30 PM (not so bad, see?), the Vue was all packed up, and Alex jumped in to start it up and get the party started...and it didn't. Start, that is. The car or the party. Son of a B***H!!! moment #1. Dead battery. We frantically threw everything from the Vue into the truck. Why frantically you ask? Because a massive line of hella crazy storms preceding a cold front (*cue Hallelujah chorus!*) was bearing down on Lafayette…aaaand the truck had no fuel. Nice. So we had to stop and get gas. And, of course, as soon as we pulled into the gas station, nature unleashed her full fury- pouring rain and twenty mile-per-hour winds. Son of a B***H!!! moment #2. Poor Alex cowered behind the pump as much as he could, but still got pretty wet. Then we drove like bats out of hell trying to get in front of that thing, which we eventually managed to do right outside of Baton Rouge. Ahhhhhh, thaaaat was better.

The rest of the day was great. We visited with Mom and Dad Mottram, and they treated us to dinner (supper? Whatever. Last meal of the day…if you’re a normal person and not, um…me) at their local Chinese buffet. Noticeably absent from dining at the buffet with Mom and Dad Mottram were the normal loss-of-appetite comments Alex subjects me to when we dine in such fashion in Lafayette. Valid proof that he was, indeed, “raised right,” as they say. Anyway, that was much fun as we got not only the tickets, but Christmas and anniversary checks, too. (Money, money, money! I love money! Oh, and of course, I love my in-laws, too!)

We headed into New Orleans proper to catch up with Burt and Melissa. Burt (nicknamed B Daigle by the NOLA set) and Melissa (nicknamed Sister- or more accurately, Sistah- by her sisters, which was then adopted by the NOLA set) moved down to New Orleans back in the summer and purchased a townhouse this fall and, nosey *ss bi**h that I am, I’ve been dying to check out their new pad ever since. It did not disappoint. Burt and Melissa got a phat crib, yo! Seriously. It's in Lakeview, which is a part of the city that was flooded during Katrina, and their place has been refurbished. It's three stories, so only the bottom floor was flooded, and they have 3 bedrooms and 3 ½ baths, real wood floors, granite counters, stainless steel appliances...yeah, you get the picture. This place is so big, they can't even fill half the rooms. It's almost twice the square footage of our house in Lafayette. If you throw in the two-car garage and work room, then it is. Is it weird that I want my much younger brother and his wife to adopt me? Anyway, Burt and Melissa are livin’ the high life over there in the big city, and I am plenty envious, I tell ya.

After a blissful night’s slumber at Chez Sistah and B Daigle's, we left for the Superdome at about 10:00 AM. Game time was noon. Of course, the cold front had come through and it was delightfully nippy. *Yay!* We had to stop at the bank to get money and stuff, but I still felt we had plenty of time to get there and be settled before kick off. Mmm-hmmm, you know what’s coming right? By 10:30 AM, we were stuck in traffic. For almost an hour, we were in line for the Dome exit off of I-10 East only to be shooed back onto the interstate just as we had reached the point where we should have been able to park. Why? I have NO idea. Maybe you needed a parking pass or something. The cop just blew his whistle and pointed us onto the ramp leading back onto the highway. I was in so much shock and disbelief, I couldn’t even launch into an impressive string of trucker epithets. I think I said, “I’m gonna cry!” three times while Alex said, “Okay, it’s too late now. We just deal with it!” at escalating volume until I shut the hell up. At this point, it was 11:35. Final Son of a B***H!!! moment of the trip. Somehow Alex got us down in the vicinity of the dome, screeched into the Holiday Inn parking garage, hauled me through the streets, figured out where to go in the Dome to get to the suite, and had me hoofing it through the hallway to the actual suite as the Saints kicked off. We almost made it! But we didn’t…but who cares cuz that suite was freakin’ SWEET! Food out the wazoo, free beer, free hard liquor and mixers, leather stadium seats with cupholder, a cute little Saints towel to wave around and a shiny new roster sheet waiting for you on your seat, flat screen TV to keep you abreast of the other games, clean restrooms with no waiting even during halftime. Yes, peeps, this is the way to watch football. If you, like I, have ever said to yourself, it can’t be that good up there, they’re not getting the real game experience, and all those other things we say to try and fool ourselves into believing that we aren’t missing out on anything. We are sooooo wrong. We are soooo missing out. Even if that was the only time I will ever get to experience it, thank you, Baby Jesus, for giving me a brother-in-law with a really rich friend, even if his pockets are lined with the blood money of Bush administration defense contracts. I don’t care. I got to watch the Saints like all those old, rich, fat Republicans, and it was awesome. As I looked down upon the great unwashed masses and imagined them queuing up for their Dome Foam and eboli infested bathrooms, I was unequivocally and blissfully happy. People, I have lived the dream, and it was oh so, so good. And I know it was a dream because the Saints actually won the game. Boo-ya! We're still alive for the playoffs!

Then it was back to reality. Upon stumbling into our humble, 1970s countertop, wood laminated abode, our cat Gizmo leapt at our faces to let us know that we had forgotten to leave out food for her. A stunning and irrefutable piece of evidence that the man upstairs was right on when he decided not to endow us with offspring. That kid would probably still be sitting in a suite at the Superdome right now.

Enjoy the pics that follow, my peeps, and then get that darn Christmas shopping done already. You can’t procrastinate forever! Oh wait…that only applies to me. My bad.

The holiest of holies- my ticket to the dream and the souvenir I got to take home and treasure forever.

This picture does no justice to the phenomenally fantastic and unobstructed dream view we had of the field. Brings a tear of joy to my eye just remembering it.

Alex watching the game- fat cat style. Notice the smug grin on his face. Love it.

Proof that dreams do come true!

Proof that I (er...I mean, we) lived the dream, if only for one game.