Posts Tagged ‘Easter’

Eastertide

Wednesday, March 25th, 2015

Easter, '76

Eastertide
We wake, search in Holly Hobby nightgowns.
Daddy says, “I’m gonna bite his head right off.”
Chocolate bunnies are hollow.

Real chicks, pink, purple, green.
“Your sister is allergic to rabbits.”
Green plastic grass sticks to feet
As the dog sits in pastel tinfoil pieces.

Azalea, Forsythia, Dogwood
Lenten Rose and Daffodils.
“Jonquils,” Mama says.

Yellow Easter dresses, white tights.
No white before Memorial Day.
Scrape those black patent-leather soles.
White plastic straw hat, elastic itches

Dorothy Hamill shags
and gap-toothed grins
Smiling for the picture
Sisters side by side

Here is the church and the steeple.
Voices rise together.
“Raise your joys and triumphs high.
Sing ye heavens, and earth reply.”

Gaze, girl, up at sanctuary lights
like wrought iron gazebos.
One day you’ll be sixteen.
One day a mother and take home a lily.

Out into the light
Squint in the sun
Prismatic technicolor Spring
Too brilliant to last.

Spring Break 2012

Monday, April 9th, 2012

We did the Spring Break thing. A few days on Hilton Head (Todd had a shoot this week: Bad advertising world! Bad!) and then we did the lake for Easter with the whole family. About 24 hours of my family in one small 2BR lakehouse is all I can take, no matter how much I love them. I think this is normal?

So busy after being gone – work, laundry, trying to get back into a diet and exercise happy place. I feel like a train that derailed in a fiery crash of fried, fat, beer and excess!

Highlights of the week, not in photos: Fishing with my kiddos at dusk. Morning kids swimming with dog while I drink coffee at lake. Watching Brody revel in lake life. Puttering around with my dad for a day at the lake, fixing stuff, for once not snapping at each other. A rarity. Mom’s potato salad. My kids’ awesome manners while out to eat in HHI. I almost cried. Watching Venus in the Pleiades (spelling?) from the dock on a clear night. On the water at the beach. Seeing kids’ faces when they saw dolphins up close. Hearing their contagious laughter in the car on 441 – They had a “make each other laugh contest” and were killing Todd and I with their laughter. Such sweet music. Driving home on a sunny, perfectly-warm Easter afternoon with only Rollie and Brody in the car. Windows down, listening to an old mix CD of some of my all-time favorite songs, discussing them with Rollie: He asks a lot of questions, like “who is it by? What is it called? What is it about? Why do you like it?” Memorable discussions of songs – “Mayonnaise” by Smashing Pumpkins, “This Must Be The Place” by Talking Heads, and “Tempted” by Squeeze. R. thought it was so funny that I used to sing it to him as a lullaby when he would cry as a baby. Teaching kids to jump rope in the driveway last night. “Cinderella, dressed in yellow. . . ” (What are your favorite jump rope rhymes?)

Hope you all had a great Easter, Seder, spring break, etc.

What Happens When the Candy is Taken Away

Sunday, April 24th, 2011

We’ll get to that at the end, but I thought I’d post some pics of the kiddos and family at the lake for Easter weekend.

For Lisa, on Easter

Sunday, April 4th, 2010

Because I still miss finding our baskets together.

dadlisame

We Had Candy for Breakfast

Sunday, April 4th, 2010

Turns out the Bunny Trail runs right through Hilton Head. We had candy for breakfast and I don’t even feel guilty about it.

Happy Easter from Dogwood Girl. Hope you have lots of eggs in your basket!

Happy Easter

Unfinished

Friday, April 3rd, 2009

I am still trying to figure out how I became the one hiding the Easter eggs, when I feel like i haven’t finished finding all of mine.

Our Vacay

Wednesday, April 11th, 2007

Went to the lake for a week for Rollie’s spring break. I unplugged for a week – no internet for over seven days. That was kind of strange, but much-needed.

We had a nice week, although we only had one warm day for the kids to play in the water before it turned freezing. So, to keep from getting bored and cabin feverish, we tried to stay busy. We did some “fishing” – Fishing with kids rarely means you catch anything. It just consists of sitting around talking and trying to keep the kids from throwing the rods in the water, or falling in themselves. We went to the Uncle Remus Museum in Eatonton, the birthplace of Joel Chandler Harris. We walked around fabulous downtown Eatonton. “Sleepy” describes the area to a T. Tiller and Lisa and I checked out the flea market in downtown Milledgeville. We also ate cake and had coffee at Blackbird Coffee, which is a surprisingly nice coffee shop for middle Georgia. They even have free wi-fi; I did not partake of that.

On Saturday, we bundled up the kids and went to Andalusia, the farm that was the home of Flannery O’Connor and where she lived while writing all of her novels. I have been meaning to go there for years, but the weather never cooperated. (Read: It was always too nice, and I chose to float on an inner tube drinking cheap beer out of the can, rather than following my literary desires.) The farm is on over 500 acres, and has, in addition to the antebellum farmhouse, numerous outbuildings, a pond, and they are creating some nature trails. Did I mention they have a resident donkey pony? Flossie. She is cute.

The kids just loved running around willy-nilly on the property, and seeing Flossie. Tiller and I spoke with the old woman who feeds Flossie every day, rain or shine. She drove up in a Honda CRV-type vehicle, and when she got out, I almost laughed out loud. She was wearing a long dress coat, the kind your Grandma would wear to church on Sunday, complete with a black dress hat with big red flowers on it. She and her dog, Champ, a spastic lab mix came out and fed Flossie, and Tiller and I watched the picture of this woman, her young dog, and the donkey. The woman, with her dress clothes on, tossed out a bale of hay for Flossie, the dog frolicking around the barn, and Flossie nuzzling the woman’s pockets for treats. It was perfect, just like a character out of O’Connor’s novels.

It was pretty cool to see the bedroom where Flannery wrote. (She lived in a downstairs room, since she couldn’t walk upstairs.) They still have the room as she kept it, with her desk and typewriter placed facing away from the front windows, so that she wouldn’t be distracted by the view of the pond (the equivalent to the Internet distraction of writers today?) I tried to imagine her sitting there, typing out Wise Blood on the typewriter, but it was easier imagining her stories when you walk the grounds and see how her environment played such a huge part in the settings of her writings. Andalusia is at once beautiful, especially in early spring, with everything blooming and coming alive, and still eerie as hell, as if you can hear the echoes of her characters voices emanating from the dilapidated outbuildings. I was inspired.

Sunday was Easter. We woke up and ate a buttload of candy. Tiller accidentally ate peanut butter. I am a shitty parent. Then we dressed them in their Easter outfits (note that Tiller’s included leggings, rather than tights, which is so, like, something I would wear in 1990, except that hers didn’t have holes in them.) My Mom and Dad were coming up that morning. Mom made a ham and homemade potato salad, which were really good, but kind of weird because I don’t think of them as a meal you eat when it is 30 degrees out. Then Dad and I bundled up and hid the Easter eggs.

We froze our asses off while the kids ran around the yard finding eggs. Then we attempted to get a few good shots of the kids all dressed up. Basically, it was one big windburned, snot-nosed mess. Then we went inside, stuffed our faces, and headed home.

Note to Self

Wednesday, March 28th, 2007

Next time someone at the church preschool asks you to come help out tomorrow because they might need a few extra hands with both class pictures and the Easter egg hunt occurring on the same day, all somewhere between 9 a.m. and noon?

Run.

You will no doubt end up both running the whole Easter Egg hunt and being in charge of capturing the whole thing on digital. I had to hide eggs for the one year old class, then help them hunt for them, then the two year old class eggs had to be hidden, then the three year olds had to find theirs.

After each group went, we then had to have them turn their baskets in, so that we could distribute the eggs back out evenly. (Neal Boortz would keel over at this “redistribution of wealth” lesson in action.)

You think the animal kingdom is cutthroat? You should see these little things pushing, shoving, and biting – yes, biting – to get a cheap plastic egg with a Peep in it. Human beings, on their basest level, are not pretty.

And the fact that I am leading the Easter egg hunt and I don’t even know if I believe in the whole resurrection story? Well, that is just . . . ironic. And so very, very not punk rock.

How to Charm Annie

Tuesday, March 27th, 2007

Dooce has this cute thing she calls “How to Charm Me.” I often think of things that the kids and husband do that are just downright charming and then I forget to share them. Not today!

How Rollie charmed Annie today:

Three year olds talk a lot. I mean a LOT. They pretty much wake up, walk out of their room, come in your room, tell you to wake up, and then bombard you with constant questions for the next, oh, thirteen hours or so. Non-stop. You don’t have children and you think I am exaggerating; I am not. It is the Spanish fucking inquisition over here.

Before I have coffee, I just nod and say uh-huh, even when Rollie says,

“Mama, mama, mama, mama. I asked you a question. Mama, I asked you a question. Mama!! I asked you a question.”

The question is usually,

“Mama, why do cars just bump?”

Translation: Why do cars bump into each other in races and get into wrecks? Sometimes, it is

“Mama, why do you like coffee?”

I want to tell him the truth, which is that I am addicted to coffee and I can’t handle his fucking questions all day without drinking it. Instead i say,

Me: “Because it is good.”
Him: “Why it’s good?”
Me: “It just is. Drink your milk.”

Kids questions aren’t influenced by the constraints of physics in any way whatsoever. Last night, Rollie asked us

“Why can’t you go outside the walls?”

We aren’t sure what this means, but i think he was trying to find out why we can’t walk through walls, and well, damn. The explanation for that is over my head, how the fuck am I going to explain it to him? A good answer for one like that is

“Go ask your father.”

And yes, I now often answer him with only “Because,” or even the dreaded “Because I said so.” You may judge me for this when you have walked a mile in my shoes and listened to the incessant damn interrogation.

Biology is a remarkable thing. Survival of the Fittest actually extends to human children. In addition to their little immune systems and ability to heal from wounds quickly, they also have this neat little mechanism where, just about the time you are going to wring their little necks if they utter another syllable, they pop out with something so funny, or absurd, or clever, that you bust out laughing and forget to kill them. Case in point:

“Mama, when is bunny coming?”
“Easter.”
“When is Easter?”
“Easter Sunday.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No. Sunday after next.”
“What is Sunday?”
“The day after Saturday.”
“Is Tiller going to have candy?”
“If y’all are good, you will both get candy for Easter.”
“From the Buster Bunny?

And that, folks, is what happens when you have been watching Bugs Bunny and talking about the Easter Bunny all in the same day.