Where do you stand on Easter basket for the kids?
When I was little, my mom made the most of every holiday. Come Easter Sunday morning I would always awaken to a huge oversize plush stuffed bunny and an even bigger Easter basket filled with gobs of sweet treats. Not the cheapo kind, the good stuff – like Hershey’s Kisses (pre pastel foil) and tall gourmet chocolate bunnies. There were always Peeps too, but I never ate them.
Now that I’m a mom with kids, I’m not as enthusiastic about this Spring holiday. Maybe it is because I feel funny about celebrating Jesus’ holy resurrection by biting into a hardboiled egg. I know why things are the way they are, but it just feels *weird*. I’m not a big Easter crafter either. From the color palette to the little duckies and bunnies, it just doesn’t jive with my natural spirit.
What’s wrong with me?
At least with the baskets, my reasoning is that both my parents and Patrick’s parents give the kids their own life-sized Easter baskets every year. That’s so much candy when you think about it! Today they’ll be chomping on a Cadbury Creme Egg and 10 years later they’ll be whining about having to get a root canal!
So far every year the Easter Bunny has made a confectionery pit stop at our casa. But this year he didn’t quite make it. A while back, DeAngelo told me (without me even bringing it up) that he didn’t want an Easter basket. He is almost 14 now and I guess it’s uncool. But Maya, at 11, is all about anything and everything that is trimmed in pink and purple with sugar on top. Yesterday she and I were at Target doing some shopping for – you guessed it – Easter baskets. I asked her if she *really* wanted one, even though she was already going to get other bigger and better ones from family.
She told me, “Nah, I’m kinda tired of chocolate right now”.
“What a sweet little girl I have,” I thought. So instead, I bought one basket and candy for it that whole family could munch on. With the money I saved from buying individual baskets for everyone, I went to the sports department and I bought myself a left-handed softball glove. This is Maya’s first year playing ball and she needs a lot of practice! I haven’t played since I was 13, but I was willing to give it a try to help her sharpen her line-drive capabilities.
We went to McDonald’s and then stopped at the park by our house and began to play catch. I didn’t care that there were a lot of families watching us as they ate at the picnic tables. I was doing pretty good and having a blast. (First the treadmill, now ball at the park – I’m freaking myself out!) All was well until Maya threw a high ball at me and I ran backwards to get it while throwing my hands over my head and leaping in the air.
My loose gauze shirt flipped up and covered my face. Even though all I could see was the bright orange fabric in front of my eyeballs – the horrified faces of the happy picnic people popped into my mind. They all caught a loooonnng glimpse of my fleshy belly and lime green push-up bra.
“Ok, let’s go now!” I yelled to Maya.
We went to my parents and continued to practice in the backyard until the second ball went over the fence. I ended up going home and let Maya spend the night there with Theresa. The next morning I woke up with ultra-sore legs that were nothing compared to the drama to come. Theresa calls me and it goes like this…
Theresa: I can’t believe you didn’t get your kids Easter baskets!
Me: They didn’t want them, I asked!
Theresa: (Yells over her shoulder) Maya! did you tell your Mommy you didn’t want a basket?
Maya: (Yells back) What?I NEVER said that!
Me: Put Maya on the phone please.
Maya: Hi Mommy, Happy Easter. How come you didn’t get me a basket? Grandma said she got you a BIG basket every year when you were little.
ME: Didn’t I ask you at Target if you wanted a basket and you said no?
Maya: Ummm, noooooo. I don’t remember that. It’s OK, though. Grandma and Theresa said they would get me a basket today.
BETRAYED! What a conniving little minx! I drove right over there to give her a good guilt-laced lecture. She finally admitted to me that – yes, she now *remembered*. She apologized and I could tell she felt bad. Good! I made her march right in the house and tell my parents and Theresa. I needed vindication!
It sounds silly, but that episode threw my whole day out of whack. I know my family was kidding about it all and I take things so personally but inside I kept wondering if I am a bad mommy because I didn’t go that extra step to break out with the pastel cello and basket. I kept crying about it. Not just sniffle crying, but like – “not-enough-Kleenex- in-the-house-so-go-get-the-roll-of-tissue-paper” kind of crying.
Don’t those baskets always end up tossed in the closet? And don’t we all end the day with a thick yellow residue of sugar on our teeth after eating all that candy? Hello? Bad breath? And the stuffed animal on the bed – it’s a pain to take it off every night and put it back on the bed when you make it up. A big yellow chickie on the bed isn’t so much fun in July, ya know? It’s too big to stuff in the closet and you can’t give it away or sell it at a yard sale because it was a *special gift* and your parents would yell “Hey Missy, I paid a lot of money for that!” – in which you reply :”But I thought the Easter Bunny got it for me?”
So maybe I just saved Maya a few ounces of future stress! Or maybe I just need to get an Easter basket of my own because it’s been such a long time since I’ve had one.