Mandatory Fun Times
My parents were hosting a big cocktail party at our house when I was about 3. When I got sleepy, they changed me into cozy pajamas, rocked me to sleep, and gingerly set me in the crib. Thirty minutes later, they heard me wailing,
“I want to go to the parteeee!”
As the story goes, I danced with the grown ups in my PJs until the last guest departed.
This weekend, we took Felix to his first Mardi Gras parade. (Technically, he joined the festivities in 2020 as an infant. I just strapped him to me and went about my carnival adventures. Of course, he has no recollection.)
We reprised our Blue’s Clues costumes from Halloween and enjoyed an enthusiastic reception by other revelers along the parade route.
I swallowed every maternal instinct (and New Orleanian instinct), letting Fe play with the dirty, broken beads that littered the sidewalk. He was utterly delighted.
Well past naptime, Fe was getting fussy. We put him in the wagon with a comfy pillow and blanket. The minute I told him he could go to sleep, he passed out—face down, legs in the air.
About an hour later, he opened his eyes, groggily taking in the scene. It was time to go. As we started to wheel the wagon toward our car, Fe screamed,
“I want to go to the paraaade!”
We stayed for another two hours. He may not look like me, but damn if we don’t have a lot in common.
Carnival time is full of these moments of euphoria and exhaustion. Sometimes they’re simultaneous, and we find ourselves in delirious delight. Not always.
While it’s a beloved holiday for this 5th generation New Orleanian, Mardi Gras always risks becoming “Mandatory Fun Time.”
Mandatory Fun Times occur when there are high expectations of constant collective delight, expectations which will almost definitely not be met.
Everything from prom, to New Year’s Eve, to weddings can become Mandatory Fun Time. Once they do, they can feel isolating and shameful: if you’re not utterly jubilant throughout Mandatory Fun Time, you’re doing it wrong!
When we hit that wall at a parade or party where it’s no longer fun, peer pressure or FOMO can keep us in place. We get a case of the “shoulds”, forcing ourselves to try and rally, to find the fun.
We want to want to be there, even though we actually don’t.
Rather than making decisions based on what I’m “supposed” to want or how I wish I felt, I want to focus on my desires in each moment.
Both 3-year-old Fe and 3-year-old Lelia knew how to do this: crash when they want, party when they want.
Oh how I wish a Lelia-sized nap wagon were socially acceptable and logistically feasible. Ask me at the right time, and I’d give up my entire retirement account for the opportunity to curl up and fall asleep.
Since that’s not typically an option when out and about, I’m tuning into the adult alternative: trusting my body and instincts.
This means staying home if I don’t feel festive at the moment. If I’m already out, pop in ear plugs and give myself permission to leave when I want.
For me, pivoting from Mandatory Fun Time to Actually Fun Time is all about recognizing and naming my needs in the moment.
To quote Rebirth Brass Band, “Do What You Wanna,” even if what you want to do is to go home and take a nap.
Happy Mardi Gras, y’all!
Hugs,
Lelia