Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s Easter. Happy Easter! I had almost totally forgotten about it. It’s just such a holiday that’s not on my radar really. I’m not religious so it holds little personal meaning for me in that respect and it always creeps up on me. More so this year than most given everything else that’s going on. My mom sent me to the grocery store yesterday (yes, on a Saturday, again, and the Saturday before Easter, so not a good idea) to restock the fridge and get a few things for the kids for an Easter egg hunt this morning. This morning still arrived as a bit of a shock.
My Mom had taken The Boy outside to enjoy the gorgeous morning while I set up the indoor egg hunt and strategically placed their bigger Easter gifts. The Girl woke up lat morning after falling back asleep on the couch and came to me with an egg in hand saying “What this?” She caught on quickly though as she kicked off the hunt with a good head start on her brother. They had a good time.
Dad got up after the hunt was over and was still not doing well, so Mom called the new on call hospice nurse to request a home visit today. Dad moved as little as possible and read the paper. The Girl played with her new Barbie princess and horse and The Boy begged my Mom shamelessly to get started on his new medieval castle herb garden which would require painting. It was a normal Sunday morning except for the pain and discomfort etched across my Dad’s face.
But my Dad has gotten better as the day has gone on, The Girl seems to be fever free although her cough has evolved into a nasty wet thing that needs little provocation, The Boy had a grand time painting and planting his indoor garden. The hospice nurse arrived and took a thorough account of my Dad ending with a long talk about pain management and a declaration that the gout med should be utterly discontinued.
Now it’s on to dinner and sneaking the ears off the kids’ chocolate bunnies.
Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts
4/10/10
4/11/09
Belligerence and Table Manners
“Peanut.”
Picks up the bag and looks at it, “No. Peanut. But-ter.”
“Fuck you.”
Apparently I’m not the only one who is rife with belligerence as of late. The above exchange just took place between my husband and my mom. They are sitting on the floor filling Easter eggs for The Boy and The Girl for tomorrow morning’s ass crack of dawn egg hunt. They, like most children, intuitively know when it’s a holiday and so thus get up at least an extra hour earlier. It’s really very lovely. And so much appreciated.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s all the wind. Maybe it’s the up and down temperatures happening here with the weather. I don’t know, but I’m sort of glad to see that I’m not the only one oozing belligerence around here. Gives me the freedom to really let it rip when the mood strikes. And allows me to not feel quite so guilty when I tell my husband (or total strangers in my head) to fuck off. It’s amazing what hearing your mom say it for you will do for a girl.
The Boy has been utterly belligerent today in the way that only a going on 6 years old kid can be. We splurged and went out to dinner tonight and he sat on the dinner table. In the restaurant. During dinner. I was aghast. That is something you just don’t do in my world. I’m sort of a stickler for table manners. One of my biggest rewards as a kid was to get to go out to dinner with my parents. So I figured out early on that the only way to keep getting to go out to eat was to be really, really good during dinner. So when The Boy uses his crayons as missiles, I tend to get a wee bit tense.
My mom is filling plastic eggs with jelly beans; alternating eating them and then putting some in the eggs. When she found a particular flavor she really liked, she immediately turned to her son-in-law, opened her mouth and asked what color it was. At least now I know where The Boy gets his table manners.
Picks up the bag and looks at it, “No. Peanut. But-ter.”
“Fuck you.”
Apparently I’m not the only one who is rife with belligerence as of late. The above exchange just took place between my husband and my mom. They are sitting on the floor filling Easter eggs for The Boy and The Girl for tomorrow morning’s ass crack of dawn egg hunt. They, like most children, intuitively know when it’s a holiday and so thus get up at least an extra hour earlier. It’s really very lovely. And so much appreciated.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s all the wind. Maybe it’s the up and down temperatures happening here with the weather. I don’t know, but I’m sort of glad to see that I’m not the only one oozing belligerence around here. Gives me the freedom to really let it rip when the mood strikes. And allows me to not feel quite so guilty when I tell my husband (or total strangers in my head) to fuck off. It’s amazing what hearing your mom say it for you will do for a girl.
The Boy has been utterly belligerent today in the way that only a going on 6 years old kid can be. We splurged and went out to dinner tonight and he sat on the dinner table. In the restaurant. During dinner. I was aghast. That is something you just don’t do in my world. I’m sort of a stickler for table manners. One of my biggest rewards as a kid was to get to go out to dinner with my parents. So I figured out early on that the only way to keep getting to go out to eat was to be really, really good during dinner. So when The Boy uses his crayons as missiles, I tend to get a wee bit tense.
My mom is filling plastic eggs with jelly beans; alternating eating them and then putting some in the eggs. When she found a particular flavor she really liked, she immediately turned to her son-in-law, opened her mouth and asked what color it was. At least now I know where The Boy gets his table manners.