It is 7:42 pm on Easter Eve and I am sitting on the couch drinking wine and watching Moses (or is it Ben Hur?) and I am feeling that twisty knot of guilt in my stomach forming because I botched another holiday for my four year old. I raced through the grocery store this afternoon to buy whatever Easter candy was left to fill his little green basket with. I did not plan out any elaborate Pinterest inspired eggstravaganza. I just bought a lot of carrot and bunny shaped chocolate, a few bouncy balls, and a toy that whirs and lights up – and then a bottle of Pinot Noir for me – and called it good.
What is it with this holiday planning thing that I can’t seem to get right? We are not religious in my house and so Easter is a fun excuse to celebrate spring and candy. Every six weeks or so there seems to be another holiday to hurry up for.
We have red circles on the calendar for Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, birthday’s, then comes the cold part of the calendar with Halloween, more birthday’s, Thanksgiving, more birthday’s, Christmas, anniversary’s, more birthday’s, New Year’s, and finally my birthday. Each of these holidays come with plans to be with friends and family, (which I love), and more stuff to buy, (which I hate,) and more things to get ready for, (which I dread.)
Is it any wonder that I fail at the most basic task of arranging chocolate and tchotchkes in a basket? My poor kid has the world’s laziest Mom. At least…that is how I feel tonight while my guilt turns to panic and I find myself scavenging the Internet for that last minute EGGSTRAVAGANZA! I may well be lazy about this holiday business, but my poor kid shouldn’t have to know that.
Tomorrow morning my boy will wake up and find a small but over stuffed basket waiting for him at the breakfast table. Later, while I am convincing him to get dressed and brush his teeth after he has likely eaten most of the contents of his basket (and perhaps developed a flash case of diabetes) my husband will race out to the backyard and quickly hide 20 plastic Easter eggs that each hold silly putty or bouncy balls.
With not much fuss and very little fluster I pulled off another holiday from the seat of my pants in the eleventh hour. I feel kind of terrible about it, until I consider for a moment that from the perspective of my kid, a basket full of junk food for breakfast is a pretty decent surprise. Couple this surprise with a race through the backyard for an Easter egg hunt and then the day suddenly doesn’t seem so shabby at all.
Happy Easter, dear readers. May your day be lovely and bright, and perhaps better planned than ours will be!