Et voilà my sons’ Easter baskets this year.
Steps for creating your very own Hotmess Easter:
- Don’t decorate for Easter.
- Buy crap and candy from a local big box store.
- Reuse as much as possible from last year, if you can even find it…
- Spend just enough time with a friend to realize you aren’t doing enough for your friends.
- Spend just enough time with a friend to realize you aren’t spending enough quality time with your kids.
My Easter decorations are still in the attic, the baskets are somewhere yet to be located (it’s 8:30 the night before Easter) and I didn’t even get that much stuff for my sons. Maybe I should start by confessing that I dislike Easter, the Easter bunny is terrifying to me, and the whole thing is not worth the time of a non-Christian. I consider myself to be more spiritual than religious and I appreciate the spirit of Christmas and I will stick my toe into the whole Elf on the Shelf thing, but Easter, meh.
Earlier this evening I was with my friend, who wants to be referred to as “Red Quinoa” for this blog, and I let time just slip away. She’s a true friend- she is the only non-family member of my team for a fundraising event I am doing for my son’s medical condition. She and I taught together for a few years and she is still teaching at the school I left at the end of last year. She’s the one, who when I say, I have this crazy idea, is either on board with me or sane enough to stop me. She’s the one who told me to start this blog one Tuesday night when I got so trashed she had to drive me home and my babysitter/former student saw the true side of this English teacher… Anyway, she recently divorced her husband. She bought a house and she’s living alone. I went over there and I immediately had a momma-bear moment when I looked at her yard. I want to fix everything. I started to think of all the small things I notice my husband doing to maintain the house and I told her those things. Be sure to change the filters, weed whack the grass that is getting too high where the ground is still too wet. I firmly believe that if I wasn’t fighting this eternal battle with time, I could help her knock out her yard work in a weekend, and at least set her up for how it’s done. But in the eternal battle for time, I lose. Even waking at 4:15 am most mornings gives me just enough time in my day for most of the things I need to get done.
Red Quinoa being Red Quinoa, went out and shopped with me so I could enjoy some kid-free time. We went clothes shopping and then went to Big Lots for some Easter baskets. She made me food (I SUCK at cooking), we drank wine and I dyed her hair, and life was good. Skip ahead a few hours and I’ve lost track of time.
So now I am home and it’s bedtime and I realized that I have not even dyed eggs with my kids this year. They have some crap and candy for their Easter egg baskets, and we have plans for tomorrow, but I feel like a let down. As I made my older son’s bed tonight and put on fresh sheets, he told me that he loves me most because I am the one that does the most. He doesn’t realize that I ache every single day that I can’t do more. I wish I could be more, for my friends, for my kids, for my husband. If I notice all the small things my husband does around the house and tuck it away in the part of my brain labeled “if he leaves and I have to do this all on my own,” does he have the same section in his brain? If my kids think I am “doing everything” does that mean that they think I am doing enough? Maybe a new Easter tradition will simply be to state the things, big or small, that someone else in the family does that makes us appreciative of them.