Other then the scrummy candy baskets, I have never really liked Easter that much. It brings back memories of shiny white shoes, horrible lace tights, ugly straw purses, fancy elbow length sweaty gloves, and frilly..itchy dresses. (Which is why I have never forced my own girls to wear any of it)
Besides the ridiculous froofy crap I had to wear the entire Sunday, we always had to attend the longest Easter mass EVER. The priest droned on..and on...every year. The most excitement I ever got out of Easter service was the year some kid barfed a pile of chocolate all over his mother two pews in front of us. The only thing that got me through mass was Dad's promise of the annual egg hunt right after. There was nothing more enjoyable than annoying my mother while plodding through the grass...scuffing my shoes...losing the curl in my hair...and getting grass stains on my tights.
When I recall Easter dinner I can only think of one thing, well two really. First of all there was always some awful looking lamb cake. Initially, I was excited..hey..this was cake! But, no. It tasted like cardboard and foam...every year. The second thing I remember is cherry jello...doused in milk. (My mother always served it that way) It was awful. Strangely enough, I don't really recall turkey or ham (possibly because my mother often ruined it...or yelled so much that we all lost our appetites)
I like to do things simple. I don't require finery at my house on Easter. I'd rather answer the kids questions about religion myself too. I don't get all preachy, I try to make it more appealing. We don't do polished silver at the dinner table, or linen napkins either. We could eat hot dogs for all I care...because what really matters is that we are together.
There are still baskets and egg hunts...bunnies and a prayer...and usually there is still my mother. (As polished up as ever at age 87)
My youngest is completely excited about the Easter Bunny (unlike I used to be... traumatized by one Ronald McNielly at age 7...He told me the tale of how he saw this enormous hairy bunny sitting on the toilet while he went in search for his basket one Easter. Every year thereafter, I spent the night before the holiday behind a locked bedroom door..under the covers..afraid to breath (or pee)
Still, I'm sure the bunny will be visiting our house this year...after all there is plenty to deliver...eggs...peeps...jelly beans... chocolates...and all that Easter grass that's sure to clog up the vacuum (and it's been only recently that I finished finding Christmas tinsel)
Go figure.
Besides the ridiculous froofy crap I had to wear the entire Sunday, we always had to attend the longest Easter mass EVER. The priest droned on..and on...every year. The most excitement I ever got out of Easter service was the year some kid barfed a pile of chocolate all over his mother two pews in front of us. The only thing that got me through mass was Dad's promise of the annual egg hunt right after. There was nothing more enjoyable than annoying my mother while plodding through the grass...scuffing my shoes...losing the curl in my hair...and getting grass stains on my tights.
When I recall Easter dinner I can only think of one thing, well two really. First of all there was always some awful looking lamb cake. Initially, I was excited..hey..this was cake! But, no. It tasted like cardboard and foam...every year. The second thing I remember is cherry jello...doused in milk. (My mother always served it that way) It was awful. Strangely enough, I don't really recall turkey or ham (possibly because my mother often ruined it...or yelled so much that we all lost our appetites)
I like to do things simple. I don't require finery at my house on Easter. I'd rather answer the kids questions about religion myself too. I don't get all preachy, I try to make it more appealing. We don't do polished silver at the dinner table, or linen napkins either. We could eat hot dogs for all I care...because what really matters is that we are together.
There are still baskets and egg hunts...bunnies and a prayer...and usually there is still my mother. (As polished up as ever at age 87)
My youngest is completely excited about the Easter Bunny (unlike I used to be... traumatized by one Ronald McNielly at age 7...He told me the tale of how he saw this enormous hairy bunny sitting on the toilet while he went in search for his basket one Easter. Every year thereafter, I spent the night before the holiday behind a locked bedroom door..under the covers..afraid to breath (or pee)
Still, I'm sure the bunny will be visiting our house this year...after all there is plenty to deliver...eggs...peeps...jelly beans... chocolates...and all that Easter grass that's sure to clog up the vacuum (and it's been only recently that I finished finding Christmas tinsel)
Go figure.
