Black-eyed peas (the dish, not the band) aren’t actually peas , they’re beans. Perhaps this is an intentional misnommer. According to many, there’s this Southern tradition which involves eating 365 black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day to bring luck and prosperity for the year. Being open to new traditions, we thought we’d give this black-eyed peas thing a shot. My wife’s boss gave her a packet of 365 black-eyed peas which we prepared and ate on January 1st, 2009.
New Year’s Day was a dandy. My wife crashed before midnight on New Year’s Eve while I watched the local festivities on TV, a far cry from my midnight pot banging as a youth. Thursday was a fairly uneventful day as I remember. After we ate our 365 black-eyed peas for dinner, we put our daughter to bed and virtually rocked to Guitar Hero III on the Wii. After nearly two hours of dismantling the atomic guitar, we heard a faint sound over the basement baby monitor. We put Slash on ice and dashed upstairs to spy on Baby Singe.
Turns out Baby Singe wasn’t a big fan of the black-eyed peas. She chundered (a more pleasant made up term for when one violently expells a variety of things through their nose and/or mouth) all over herself, her crib, and her stuffed doggie. She cried for a few minutes as we cleaned up the carnage and comforted her. Twenty minutes later she was back to sleep.
I go back downstairs to relax in front of the TV. I hear an audible whimper over the basement baby monitor. I rush upstairs to make sure our little one is fine. I gently scoop her into my tense arms and slowly rock her. Her stomach begins to rumble and once again, she chunders. I yell in the direction of the bathroom as my wife is in the shower cleaning herself up after round one. Once again we clean our little girl, changing her sheets and pajamas and get her back down in her crib. Yep, a couple hours later she chunders again for the final time.
2009 is off to a bang! We’re not sure if the black-eyed peas are to blame. I believe you make your own luck. Maybe it’s 365 black-eyed peas per person. Maybe they aren’t supposed to land on the floor. Maybe I’m supposed to pledge my allegiance to Fergie or something. Let’s review what has happened since January 1st.
January 1-2: our daughter throws up three times
January 2 : Mr. Singe takes a sick day to watch after his daughter
January 5: notified my current job will not exist after January 31st
January 10: our Prius was rearended on the way to the zoo
January 12: forced to watch the E! Fashion Police Golden Globes recap
January 13: someone didn’t hold a door open for me
In the interest of fairness, here’s the good stuff of 2009
January 1-13: our house hasn’t received any flood damage
January 5: my work computer was fixed by tightening a hard drive screw
January 10: our manly Prius sustained no visible damage from the car accident
January 10: our rainy weather made for an awesome zoo visit
January 11: found a lost beagle, Regal, and returned him to his parents
January 12: received much praise from a co-worker
January 11-13: Baby Singe slept through the night
The year is young, the year is young, the year is young. The British are coming, the British are coming, the British are coming!