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The Easter Dilemma

It just dawned on me that I’ve done NOTHING for Easter. No decorations up. No Easter baskets down from the storage shelf in the garage. Nothing that resembles the fact that Easter is in two days. I mean, I accidentally have a little bit of candy because we visited Andy’s Candy on Monday, but I really can’t list that under the “accomplishments” column because we’ve already started eating it.

Hell, the kids asked the other day if they were getting something for Easter.

All signs point to NO.

It’s too bad you don’t believe in the Easter Bunny! Basically that means that you get crap from your Mom & Dad because they’re JERKS!

I’m pretty sure we’ll come up with something. (Tomorrow. Maybe.) But I’m feeling conflicted on this new chapter of parenting we’ve reached. I’m equal parts nostalgic and relieved that ‘these types’ of holidays are no longer a very big deal in our house. Less stress, but I promised myself that it didn’t matter that if they believed or not, we’d still celebrate with gusto. But here we are and I’ve done NOTHING to prepare and I’ve kinda entertained the idea that I don’t have to.

I won’t actually DO nothing, but I’ve entertained the idea.

(Also, I’m really bummed that I forgot to decorate. I do love springtime/Easter decorations. They’re so cheerful.)

Parenting is so weird. I’m blown away by the fact that I’m done with the babies and toddler era. But OMG MY KIDS FEED AND DRESS THEMSELVES AND IT’S GLORIOUS. But then…the only time I’ll sniff a baby’s head is if it belongs to someone else. MY CHILDREN TALK AND CAN USE THEIR WORDS TO TELL ME IF THEY’RE NOT FEELING WELL OR HUNGRY. I DON’T HAVE TO WIPE ANYONE’S ASS. The cuddles, the footie pajamas the cuddles! I DON’T HAVE TO PAY FOR DIAPERS AND DID I MENTION I DON’T HAVE TO WIPE ANYONE’S ASS?

So yeah…we’re back to two days before Easter and totally not prepared. Or decorated. And completely grateful that we have plans with family on Sunday that will be fabulous fun and will give my kids a taste of Easter festivities. Which means, really, that I can give myself the weekend off and not worry about this anymore. Done!

I love Easter.

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Last year’s Easter deco. Obviously.

 

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Ramona: Age 12

abbygirl

Twelve just sounds really old.

I obviously know how old my kids are. I really do know how to do math. But for some reason, Ramona’s jump from 11 to 12 yesterday knocked the wind out of me. It’s not that her new and updated age took me by surprise. It’s just…no, I’m lying. It somehow totally took my by surprise. I’m constantly amazed by how fast time flies. At this point in my parenting career, I should really be used to it.

For various reasons, I worried about how much fun Ramona would have celebrating her birthday. With her big day falling right in the middle of her two weeks of spring break and then a family filled, Easter weekend, we didn’t have too many options and will be having her birthday “event” in May. At some point. On a weekend that is NOT Mother’s Day or the weekend I’m not out of town. (Sigh.)

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yes, she is pointing a sling-shot at me

Don’t get me wrong, I really do think she had a great time yesterday. I mean she practically had a breakfast of gummy bears and worms as we visited a fabulous new candy store downtown. (LOVE them.) We had a Starbucks date, her and I. A visit to one of her favorite people. Her best friend was able to get out of school early yesterday and hang out with us for the afternoon. They were pampered with pedicures, just the two of them. (Which I neglected to get a picture of. Mom FAIL.)

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there are only 10 candles…another MOM FAIL

We had celebrated April birthdays with my side of the family over the weekend while everyone was in town, but my inlaws were able to come over for a nice, little dinner. I was also so glad that some family that lives so close could come over for birthday cake. (That Beezus made. From scratch. It was amazing and DELICIOUS.)

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the beautiful, vanilla layered cake made with a LOT of hard work by the big sister

I can’t even begin to express my gratitude for the people in my life that love my kids so much. I am so blessed with family (and friends who are family) who make my kids feel so special. This kid is so loved. Plus, that look on her face? Makes me so damn happy. She is just the coolest chick ever.

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I love her
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It’s a Good Thing They’re Cute

Get up at 4:30 in the morning. You’re solo-parenting this week so you have to get completely ready for work before taking kids to school. You also need to go in early because there’s a track meet to attend this afternoon. As you’re putting on your make-up, you realized that the dog still needs to be fed. Feed dog, finish make-up downstairs. Yell up to the kids that it’s almost time to go. Try to make sense of the toaster. Realize it’s just not plugged in.

Car is packed with your things, kids are not ready to go. Throw something together for lunches. Kids still aren’t ready. Start yelling at this point because everyone is going to be late. After all, you have to drive one kid all the way across town to school. Then drive all the way back towards home to drop the other on off. Oh, and then drive to work.

Finally get everyone in the car, leaving later than planned. One kid forgot their water bottle. (You give them yours.) The other kid forgot the “spirit wear” order form. They start freaking out saying it’s due today. (This is the first time you have heard of this deadline. Of course.) Have children call the husband that is enjoying a nice, quiet hotel room morning. Ask him to look on-line for spirit wear form. Or at the very least, remember the price of the shirt. He finds nothing. Asks to speak to you. You miss the exit off the freeway because you’re trying to be safe as the kid shoves a cellphone in your face. (You weren’t even touching the phone.) Lose your shit a little, tell husband you’ll have to call him back. Take the “scenic” route to the high school. Ignore the arguing children.

Make it to the high school. Quickly write a check for the event tickets you meant to buy yesterday. Look at the clock. Wonder if the other child is going to be on time to school. Hasty goodbye’s and love you’s said. Drive like a bat out of hell (a safe bat, of course) back towards home. Stop and go traffic and some points. Child feels carsick. Roll down all the windows, hope for the best. (Now that you mention it, you’re not feeling the greatest either. Not enough sleep and spastic car rides do not go well together.)

You never found out the exact price of the spirit wear but you’re hoping that if you just write a check, the child can figure it out and get a new order form. Settle on an agreeable price, write a check at the stoplight. Get critiqued by your tween on how you wrote the check. Consider making her walk the remaining way to school sans check. But as you’re contemplating all this, the light turns green and you, miraculously, drop her off at school with plenty of time to spare. Goodbye’s and love you’s said. The kid still looks a little green from the car ride.

At this point, you have to pass your neighborhood on your way to work. Contemplate the pros and cons of calling into work because you’re so tired and you haven’t even started your workday. Your eyes are so heavy, you stop at Starbucks in hopes that it will help you get to work safely. Since you drove a different route to stop by Starbucks, you find yourself on a path that goes right by your parents’ house. It takes every ounce of willpower to NOT stop and hang out with Mom all day. Or sleep all day. Or both. You sigh and keep driving. But you do call to wish your sister a happy birthday. Realize you sound slightly insane and your birthday song sounds like Buddy the Elf. It’s probably a good thing she loves you anyway.

Get to the office. Respond to emails, etc. Check all the things. Decide to email the track coach regarding the spirit wear order. As you make your way to the school website, you see the link plainly on the home page of the school’s website regarding spirit wear. Click on the form and hope that you’ve sent enough money.

See that the deadline to order spirit wear is next week .

With a slow shake of your head, and after popping two Excedrin, you somehow come to the conclusion that selling your children isn’t the answer but wonder if anyone will notice if you crawled under your desk for a nap. Decide that you’re just too tired to care.