I love all holidays. For me it means family getting together and making some more memorable moments (try to say that five times real fast).
One of our holiday traditions is to drive an hour south to a home that my brothers and I have in the Flordia Keys. It is nice because I have labeled bins in the garage with the appropriate decorations for each holiday since we have been there for all of them…Halloween, Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day, the Fourth of July…
It is also nice because I can load my car to the brim with all the things I don’t need – and forget the things that I needed to bring.
I’m not entirely sure why it is Easter that comes to mind as the holiday that I could never get my act together. It’s probably because when the kids were younger, there were so many things to remember: Dress-up shoes along with the usual flip flops, a dress with hopefully a cute Easter bonnet for me and my daughter (A hat! This should be a complete no brainer, but it is not), a dress tie for the boys, sportcoats, on and on.
Looking back at Easters from the past, the memories are not bad, but they aren’t how I pictured them to be either. There are, in fact, visuals of the boys with all things going wrong with their outfits. Their sportcoat sleeves are either too short that they are closer to their elbows than wrists or their dress shirts too big they hang way past the sportcoat sleeve, pant legs that are way above their ankles, a missing shoe or two and me screaming that we are going to be late for an Easter egg hunt.
When the cousins, my two nephews, are there, it is a musical chair process of who’s coat will fit the three boys the best. Each kid keeps trying on each other’s sportcoat until they look somewhat OK.
I remember one of the cousins forgot his jacket completely, so he needed to wear one of my father’s sportcoats that I kept for sentimental reasons in the tiny owner’s closet after he passed away. A real relic that looked great a long time ago, as well as on a man who stood six feet four inches. The boys, our boys, aren’t as tall. He hasn’t forgotten a sport coat since.
How did they grow so fast without us noticing? A nanosecond.
All these things make me smile now since everyone is older…especially me. I plan less, still take too much, but we just don’t go out anywhere if we don’t have the things we need to complete the Norman Rockwell, picture perfect photo. We are quite a sight to behold, and we only have to look at each other. PURE BLISS.
These days, I skip all the fuss entirely, and instead focus on what the actual holiday is about, play a game around our own dinner table, order a pizza if necessary, delegate what needs to be done, and most importantly – tell everyone else what they need to remember and bring for themselves – because I will or will not forget.
Hoppiest Easter to you all!
