Hoppy Easter!

This weekend was a blur of pastel eggs, sugar comas, and a carpet buried under endless strands of cellophane. In other words, Easter was here! Our Easter weekend was quite busy, but a good time was had by all (except my vacuum, that hates cellophane. Or my cat, that loves cellophane. Eating it. Then vomiting it up. But that’s another story…)

We usually try to split holidays between both sides of the family, resulting in two separate outings.

Double the fun… and double the candy. Double the chocolate-smeared clothing, the tantrums over hidden eggs, and the sugar-shock wild bedtime shenanigans.

And the Easter clothes- oh, those precious little outfits. You know how we dress kids all fancy and cute on spring holidays? The same holiday that encourages a child to leave church and dig into every melty, chocolatey, messy tidbit possible? Try keeping that set of clothes clean, TWICE.

Here’s my strategy: I try to plan the baskets early, picking up a variety of items at cheap stores like the Dollar Tree* . Every trip to a Walgreens or Target store results in yet another few miscellaneous items that are then thrown into a huge bag that’s hidden in my closet.

The night before Easter, I drag out the six baskets, dump out the massive bag of junk and candy that I’ve acquired, and sift through the pile in incredulous wonder… “who is this FOR?” “What IS this thing??”

(*can I just say how much I love the Dollar Tree? For a family on a very tight budget, when I walk into that store, I feel like:)

Image Courtesy of www.giphy.com

But eventually my bag o’tricks generates enough to create six cute little baskets, and voila:

Like most holidays, I ended up getting to bed a bit too late that night. I awoke at the ungodly hour of 5:30am to two little girls giggling in my bed…

#5: “Can we open our Easter baskets now??”

#4: “YEAH! Can we??”

Me: …

Image Courtesy of www.giphy.com

NOPE! For Christmas, maybe. But rousing at 5:30am for Easter baskets? Jesus may have risen, but this momma ain’t. And didn’t.

We had a nice morning; the kids enjoyed their baskets.

A lot.

#6, in a brief moment of STAYING STILL.

The kids clean up nicely, however, and the cuteness factor was just too damn high.

… but this is more like it…

 Once dressed, we embarked to our family Easter dinner and egg hunt. I’m not going to lie and say that I’m a fan of egg hunts in general- too many small children running in too many different directions- but the kids had a great time and scored big on the candy front.

And of course there were bubbles….

…and a brother who was thrilled to light-saber every single bubble.

The beautiful weather enhanced a beautiful day, and everyone enjoyed themselves; until bedtime, that is.

Easter Sunday on our home by 6pm resembles any NY subway station. There is at least one body lying inert on the ground. Wrappers are strewn over every square inch of floor. The room reeks of urine… thought I’m not sure why that’s Easter-related. It’s probably not. It’s probably the cat, who couldn’t make it to her litter box after chomping down a bellyful of cellophane.

Bedtime after a day of sugar-loading can be tenuous at best; despite being overtired, no child thinks they’re tired. So by 7pm, although they’re suited up in pajamas and their grimy teeth are brushed, it looks like this:

 

 

(Yes, it’s portrait mode. Don’t judge… I was sleep-deprived.)

But they finally went to bed, every last one of them, and in that still silence, finally, I was able to reflect on the day. It was a busy holiday, but an important one. For me, it’s not about the bunny. It’s not about the candy, although I love it. It’s not about the cute clothes or the annoying egg hunt, or the huge dinner that leaves us all wishing we could find a tiny corner to drift off into a blissful, carb-induced coma.

Easter changed it all. And in the midst of the shopping for it, the preparation for it, and the flurry of activity and pictures taken, I was reminded just what it really means to me. I was able to sit in the quiet of my bed and thank God for His Son, and for the act that gives my life meaning and hope. Even in the midst of a cah-razy day, I see the blessings.

(And the chocolate)

 

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