I grew up in a very religious home. During lent, we weren’t allowed to listen to the radio. We listened to her “God music” and it wasn’t the nifty Christian pop/rock that’s out there now. No sir. It was straight up church music. That’s if we were lucky because she also had Gregorian chant cassette tapes (this was the 90s) and they were horrible. They always creeped me out because my church used to do a hard core Good Friday service complete with dark church and carrying out a body. It was scary stuff for a 10 year old.
But we also used to color our eggs and get our picture taken with the Easter bunny at the mall.
Anyway, we had our traditions and we’d wait for the Easter bunny to come and then open our baskets and hunt for eggs around the house. We’d wear our new clothes and go have lunch and dinner with each set of grandparents.
And of course, there was church. Always church. Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter vigil on Saturday night.
As I’ve gotten older the traditions have started to change. Not better, not worse, just different. At least I hope not worse.
I make it a point to take the girls to get their picture taken with the Easter bunny. If they’re crying? No prob, that’s real life and they’ll laugh when they look back. I take great care to make sure they each have Easter baskets with things specially picked for each of them.
We used to color eggs. But usually only a few because no one eats them. I forgot to suggest coloring them this year and since Ava didn’t remind me, the free kit from Build A Bear sat on the top of the fridge where I hid it three weeks ago. Instead we planted flowers in our yard on our day off Friday. I like that better.
Plus, I usually forget where I hide them all and how many there were. Ours were all plastic this year and I tried not to fill them all with candy. I realized Saturday afternoon that meant I should probably buy something to fill them. Have you been to the grocery store the day before Easter when it’s going to be closed the next day? If you haven’t, lucky you. I shoved some plastic cars and horses into eggs and hoped for the best.
Like happens every year, I forgot 2 of the eggs. Ava found one that afternoon. And then the toddler found the rogue egg and I’d rather find her eating a piece of foil wrapped chocolate than carrying around a stinking rotten egg. Gross. Chocolate bunny surprise for the toddler win!
We still hunt for eggs in the house. The living room, to be exact.
But we don’t have family in town. No grandmas and grandpas to visit. No big Easter egg hunts with the cousins. No hiding out with them to watch tv and eat candy. We’re grown now. We have our own kids.
We didn’t go to church. The Catholic guilt in me was raging about that one, but that’s just not where I’m at right now and it’s something I’m working on. Plus does going on all the major holidays count any more than not going at all? Me and God have chats. Me and the church, not so much. Does that make me a heathen? I hope not.
We celebrated dinner with friends on Saturday night and laid low all day Sunday. We had a delicious breakfast. I went on a coffee run, literally, and picked up Starbucks while Allie napped. Just me, the beautiful view, and my music. We had burgers from my favorite place for lunch (thanks for working on Easter to make my cheeseburger, Whataburger workers).
And it was perfect. For us. No fancy meals, no fancy clothes, just us.
We were together. The way we need to be. The way that works for us. And the girls know they were loved and that’s what matters.
Sometimes you just have to change things up and do what feels right, and that can become a tradition too.