Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
I've never been one to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. When I moved to San Francisco, and worked in the Financial District, I remember hating the mess of drunken fratboy behaviors, and the screams of "why aren't you drinking, aren't you Irish?" (really. Nothing weirdly racist about that at all.)
But now we are fortunate enough to live walking distance from a lovely pub, where we regularly take molly for dinner and/or a beer. (for us... not for her
And Sunday night they had Irish step dancing and a band playing Irish folk music. When we got there, Molly desperately wanted to squeeze inside to hear the band. She told me "mama, I like music!' when we took a potty break. When the dancers came out, she went to watch and she LOVED it. But the best? After the dancers left, and the pub became less crowded, she found the dance floor to herself, and danced for like an hour. At one point, two women came up to dance with her, but Molly wasn't quite ready to deal with that. People sitting at the side smiled and waved at her bizarro interpretive, but heartfelt, dance.
I'm old now, and my clubbing days are well behind me. I'm so happy to have a place where kids are loved as part of the continuum. A friend at work seemed surprised "you took your kid to a PUB?!?!" but it seems like the natural thing to me. I've finally come around to St. Patrick's Day, and only because now I can see it through the eyes of a child dancing to folk music at a pub while her parents slam back pints of Murphys.
On another note, though, St. Patrick's will always be a bittersweet time for us, as we'll remember it as the time we saw Kathie off. She passed away the morning after, one year ago.
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may or might never all meet here again