We lived in Holland, Michigan for eleven years.  Tulip time is a big event there.  We have four kids, and they were little.  On the day when we all dress up for the scrubbing of the streets parade I had myself to dress, my husband, too.  Then, I had to wash, dry, iron, starch, and iron again all of the costumes.  I worked a full week on this project.

I dressed the baby in his doll sized costume that made him very unhappy. The other three kids had complicated costumes with bonnets or hats.  I made sure that all of them went to the bathroom before I began to safety pin them into their costumes that had Velcro fasteners that did not work.  I dressed myself, sweating.  I then packed a stroller, a wagon for the toddler, a diaper bag, snacks, drinks, and a cheap camera.

One year I decided we would wear wooden shoes, too.  Each of us wore eight pairs of socks in these shoes.  My husband was at the Tulip Time luncheon with the mucky mucks in town.  I swallowed a few safety pins as the kids moved about.  Everyone in the neighborhood gathered on the driveway to see the five of us in costume.

We could hear the cameras clicking as we walked to the car.  I tried to smile.  The baby was screaming in my ear.  I had the stroller, the wagon, the overstuffed diaper bag, and a plastic bag of safety pins.  When I opened the trunk of his car I saw his golf bag.  Irish, I have a temper that will blister paint off the wall.  I handed the baby to my unhappy oldest daughter and set down all of the stuff.  I grabbed that golf bag and threw it as hard as I could onto the lawn.  Golf balls bounced everywhere.  My neighbors were silent.

I loaded that trunk with everything but the kids and slammed it shut. Our costumes were already getting undone by this time.  Kids in car seats and seat belts we headed off to march three miles in the parade.  I never saw my husband because he was with the mucky mucks at the front of the parade.  Thousands attend this parade in May.  I had to park miles away to put our show on the road in a staging area.  I was mad, hot, and ready for anything.  I had to install several more safety pins to keep the costumes somewhat in order.  My youngest daughter’s hat slipped and she looked like a cone head in it.

After the three mile trek, I met up with my husband on the driveway at home.  All of our costumes were coming off, and were limp and filthy.  He saw his golf bag on the lawn.  “Golf, anyone?”  I asked.  He loaded the clubs into the golf bag.  The neighborhood kids had all of his golf balls.

I was exhausted, overheated, and angry.  Problem with day two of the parades was that I had to get all kids unpinned and naked, and I had to rewash, dry, iron, starch, and re-do all of their costumes for the next day.  It was the parade of all the school children.  I had lots of safety pins in a plastic bag.

My husband never said a word about the golf clubs.  He did ask me when I planned to diaper the baby.  I threw a diaper at him and set the baby on his lap.