It all began on a Friday, the last day of school. I had attended my youngest daughter's Pre-K Easter egg hunt, and while I was entertained watching the little tikes search for eggs and fill their baskets, I was more amused at the sight of the extremely tall person dressed in an Easter bunny costume that the school had brought onto the playground as a surprise during the middle of the hunt. The gesture was truly sweet, but it resulted in a weird combination of fear and awe from the tiny 4 and 5-year-olds, all of whom either froze or ran the other direction upon spotting it.
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| The look says it all. |
After (finally) convincing Miley to take a picture with it, she and I (and her basket of candy) soon ventured to pick up her 7-year-old sister, Madelyn, and her basket of sweets.
Then it was home for an evening of beginning to pack the kids' clothes (it's never too early), candy, dinner, candy, laundry, candy; searching for matching socks, candy, meltdowns due to sugar crashes, and finally collecting and trashing as much candy as possible after everyone pretty much passed out from the exhaustion of a very busy week.
Saturday was much better, as it was nice enough for everyone to play outdoors while I finalized the shopping list that wasn't going to take care of itself before Easter (the very next day). I did hear a lot of, "Hey, where are my Nerds?" and, "What? I had 19 Hershey's Kisses and now I have 4!", but I just shrugged it off and reminded them they would be getting another Easter basket in the morning. When that didn't satisfy them, I blamed the pesky leprechaun. I know it's awful, but they absolutely go bonkers at the thought of a leprechaun causing mischief. So this seemed like a good time to bring him up, and sure enough, they were all snorts and giggles afterward. Cameron (who's 13) gave me a thumbs-up for a job well done. I love that kid -- he totally gets me.
I waxed nostalgic during the 15 minute drive to the grocery store, remembering my childhood Easters. They were always wonderful, and some were more memorable than others, like the one when my brother threw a large pointed stick at me as I was swinging from a vine 30 feet over a valley (true story). He had good aim, I bled from the head, and I got my Easter basket early. Candy is the best revenge, I learned, especially when eaten slowly and in plain view. Then there was the Easter where I had fractured my elbow after being thrown from a horse that I had been riding bareback. My mom decorated my cast with ribbons Easter morning. She's the best.
But I digress. At the store, I got all of the Easter basket goodies 50% off (see, my waiting until the last minute was totally on purpose), and was able to squeak out an extra few bucks to spend on a new dress for myself. And so I did, returning home with a bounce in my step. That night I gathered everyone's outfits together for the next morning. Since I am a part of our church's praise and worship team and arrive there hours before the service begins to rehearse, the burden of dressing and readying the kids falls on Kerry. That's the equivalent of a double negative because with my three redheads, getting them ready to leave the house can be a seriously challenging sequence of events, and under that kind of pressure, Kerry's design aesthetic goes straight to street urchin a la Charles Dickens. Considering it was Easter weekend, I mustered up the energy and had everything ready to go.
Before falling into bed, I practiced my songs and preset the coffee maker for the crack of dawn. Fast forward to glorious Easter morning. I woke, got dressed and was about to walk out the door when I realized I had forgotten to set out everyone's shoes for church. This shouldn't be a problem, right? Except it's always a problem, because Miley notoriously separates pairs of shoes, hiding one far, far away from its mate for no reason other than, well, for no reason. There simply wasn't time, though, for me to remedy the situation. Kerry would make do. I just hoped the girls didn't arrive in their beautiful Easter dresses and snow boots. But it wouldn't be the first time, and worse things have happened.
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| Daddy's version of fashion. He's the best, obviously. |
The kids arrived with the correct shoes on to my great delight, and church was amazing. After the service we came home, changed and prepared to go to my mother's Easter dinner, which would be the last event prior to meeting up with my in-laws to officially surrender the kids. Before leaving for that celebration, I carefully loaded the van with the kids' bags, and each bucket of candy they had received so far. Grandparents are better suited for sugar-crazed maniacs, after all. "Maga and Paw-Paw," i.e. my wonderful inlaws, i.e. the Queen and King of a land where children need only point to what they want to receive it, surely wouldn't mind.
Once at my mom and dad's house, I loved watching all of my nieces and nephews investigate yet another basket of goodies (yep, that makes 3 separate baskets for each of mine). My brothers, parents, aunts, uncles and friends all had a swell time eating our traditional dinner of ham and green beans and deviled eggs; and cake and cookies and crescent rolls and fruit (except I managed to forget to bring the fruit plate, how, I can't imagine).
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| Aren't these just adorable? |
When the time came to leave my mom's dinner and drive an hour and a half to meet my in-laws and drop off the kids, I felt pretty ragged. I could barely stay awake on the ride there, but the thought of three blissfully peaceful kid-free days kept me going. We were so close now.
We finally arrived and transferred aforementioned children, car seats, bags, toys, blanket, and six glorious baskets full of candy as the sun was beginning to set. When I heard the click of the final seat-belt in Paw-Paw's vehicle, my mind immediately shifted gears, although I felt none less settled. The house was a disaster. Clothes were strewn in every direction and candy wrappers littered the entire place. The refrigerator was ransacked.
Would I spend my free time cleaning? Sleeping? Drooling while staring out the window? Time would only tell, but at least the time would be mine for the choosing. Late that night after we pulled into the driveway of our home sweet home, we dragged ourselves indoors, slumped on the couch, and toasted to our new-found freedom with Capri-Suns. This was gonna be good. Epic even. It's just too bad there's not a cleaning leprechaun. Cue snorts and giggles.
