Our weekend was a very busy one, and I don’t think there’s ANYTHING that says, “The glory of Easter is over with now,” like finding a dried booger on your sheets when you make the bed in the morning.
People, this is everyday life. It happens to George and Barbara Bush. It happened to Pa and Ma Ingalls. It happens to your neighbors. It happens to the Jedi Family. And it happens to you.
I’d like to shout, “NOT MINE! NOT MINE!” and let Hubs know that he’s one more dried booger away from moving outside to the boy’s playhouse, but Sherlock Holmes and Magnum, PI would probably point out that it was on my side of the bed.
I know Hubs flicked it there.
Or maybe the boy did.
Because it was certainly too big to have come out of Thing 2’s precious little nose.
Easter weekend was wonderful, and I didn’t put a blog post up last night, because somehow telling y’all about a booger on Easter didn’t seem right, especially when I had been praying ahead of time that Jesus would give me a new understanding of the cross this year, so that I wouldn’t merely say, “Mmm-hmm. Jesus died for our sins. And Jesus, be glorified, because look how cute my boys look in their Easter outfits today!” Sometimes I think that we get so caught up DOING Easter, we forget what Easter HAS DONE for us. I sat through a beautiful Easter service at church, where we heard that if Jesus didn’t raise from the dead, everything we do in life is pointless. And I diligently tried to focus, because I was rather certain that Jesus was going to answer my prayers and smack me with a fresh word about how precious Easter Sunday really is, only I was completely distracted with Sister’s baby girl, Little H. Our friend Nancy stole Thing 2 for the ENTIRE! CHURCH! SERVICE!, which meant that we were empty-handed and thus capable of stealing Little H from Sister. And she entertained us, because her Nana had given her an Easter dress that rivaled every formal gown that Barbara Mandrell ever wore on Hee Haw.
Can y’all say, “My word! That dress has some POOF”? Because the poof? Well, it was in full, glorious, Easter-yellow swing, and that is when I realized that Easter outfits for boys completely pale in comparison to what you can adorn a little girl with on Sunday morning.
And then I left church still knowing that Jesus died for my sins, and that we have the victory over death because of it, and BE GLORIFIED, JESUS, BECAUSE OUR KIDS LOOK ADORABLE AND WE’RE GOING TO GATHER FOR EASTER DINNER AND BLESS THE TARNATION OUT OF OUR HAM WITH A GOOD GRACE!
And after having gone through the day (and what a lovely day it was!), I finally sat down last night and found a link to a blog post that a friend had posted, and THERE IT WAS. Jesus quietly reminded me, at the end of the day, that this was an enormous thing that He did, and that I’ll never understand it, but I can accept it. So I had a good cry in my living room, while Hubs was beating the back of Thing 2, trying to force a burp out, and I felt like my Easter was finally complete.
Because, y’all? Oh my word! Easter Sunday is SOME SERIOUS BUSINESS. And it doesn’t matter how cute our kids look in their plaid shorts and poofy yellow sundresses, and it doesn’t matter if we smoke the ham to exactly the right temperature, and it doesn’t matter if we had exactly the right chocolate-to-stuffed-bunny ratios in the Easter baskets. What matters is that Jesus is a whole lot bigger than we realize, and that our sins are a whole lot more serious than we realize. And after quietly crying about it all in my living room last night, I didn’t have what it took to write something on this blog about how great our weekend was.
Because I was totally saving the booger story for the Easter post, I guess.
So that’s a whole lot of words already, but I promise that I have many, MANY snapshots to offset all the words with. Please watch our weekend unfold, thanks to the Canon.
On Thursday evening, Brother’s kids came over for a bit, and Miss A helped with Thing 2’s bath. I’m pretty sure that it was the highlight of her week, based on all the EXTREME GRINNING she did, and how she kept saying, “I just love him! I just LOVE Thing 2!”
(For the record, Miss A… We all love him!)
Later on Thursday evening, the boy and his friend Bek ripped into dozens of hard-boiled eggs. Egg dye and boys are usually a volatile combination that can easily result in PERMANENT STAINS EVERYWHERE, but these two did a fairly decent job of just getting the color on the eggs, and nothing else. It was an Easter miracle.
On Friday, the boy went with his cousins to a Rock-A-Thon at their church, which means that he collected pledges to sit in a rocking chair from 7:00 PM to 7:00 AM and ROCK. Of course there are snapshots from this event, but that will be it’s very own blog post sometime later.
Suffice it to say that the boy was WILDLY EXCITED. With the help of four (FOUR!) Mountain Dews, he even managed to stay awake and rocking the entire night.
On Saturday morning, Hubs and I picked the boy and Enzo up from the Rock-A-Thon at 7:00, and we took them to breakfast. They pretty much fell asleep in the restaurant, and they could barely eat their French toast.
Later that morning, I met my friend Katie for coffee at Starbucks, and we both talked about how ENORMOUSLY TIRED we are, because I have Thing 2, and Katie has five-month-old Gunnar, and Gunnar and Thing 2 (who are destined to become Best Friends Forever) are non-sleepers. I told Katie horror stories about how I was so tired, I secured a clean Pampers diaper over a heavily-laden one, so that our small baby was wearing TWO DIAPERS AT ONE TIME. Katie told me how she once went four days without a shower, because her husband wasn’t home, and Gunnar wouldn’t give her a moment’s rest.
The two of us held our caffeine-laced beverages high, shouted out, “CHEERS,” and drank to sleepless nights that will surely end when the boys get married and move out of our homes.
And then! THEN!
I came back home and Mam and Pa stopped by, and Mam said, “We’ve got an empty day ahead of us; why don’t you let us have the baby, and the three of you can sleep?”
She had me at SLEEP.
And that, people, is what we did. Hubs and I waved good-bye to Thing 2. The boy was already passed out cold in his bed, after twelve hours of nighttime rocking, and we decided to join him. I crashed on our bed; Hubs took the sofa.
And three and a half hours later we woke up and felt like new people.
That was Saturday.
And then there was Easter morning!
The boy had the best head of hair I’ve ever seen.
He examined the contents of his Easter basket and peeked to see what the Bunny brought to his brother. And then he hunted eggs INDOORS, because apparently the Easter Bunny was too cold to go outside and hide eggs this year.
After that, the boy got himself cleaned up for church and slicked that bedhead down, and then we kept hearing this ringing sound coming from SOMEWHERE IN OUR KITCHEN. It would ring… and stop. And then ring… and stop. We had no idea what it was, until the boy finally managed to pinpoint the location, and pulled HIS VERY OWN EASTER CELL PHONE out of our dish towel drawer.
I doubt that the winners of the Mega Lottery last week were any more excited than the boy was over that cell phone. Hubs and I are still wondering if we caved in on this too early, but the boy assures us that we practiced VERY GOOD PARENTING by making this purchase for him.
And then he texted the cute neighbor boy exactly 624 times yesterday.
And he called Bek five times. And Bek texted him 212 times.
And then he texted his Aunt Pink in Dallas 87 times.
And then he called both sets of grandparents. Twice.
And then he called my cell phone exactly sixteen times.
Hubs and I are very glad that the boy’s cell phone plan uses the word UNLIMITED.
And then we went to church, and we heard a great message and played with Little H in her poofy yellow dress.
And then we went to Mam and Pa’s house with Sister and her family for a fantastic ham dinner with all the trimmings.
And by all the trimmings, I mean that Mam made gravy. In our world, if there is GRAVY for the mashed potatoes, the cook has thrown out all the stops, because gravy doesn’t usually happen at the Jedi Manor. That’s what the butter is for.
Sister’s Husband fed Thing 2 a bottle.
…THERE THEY ARE!
Our boys together on Easter morning!
Even though he didn’t get a chocolate bunny of his own in his Easter basket, we’re pretty sure that Thing 2 enjoyed his first holiday.
The cousins on my side all got together for some group shots, too. In all honesty, taking group shots wasn’t THEIR idea, but they all know to just “go with it” when their crazy auntie with the camera says, “Everyone! On the sofa! Group photo now!”
And then we did some full-on family shots, which Hubs and Sister’s Husband LOVED. There’s just something magical, that will bring a tear to your eye, about a man being in front of a camera. They always smile so sweetly and behave so nicely.
Here’s the Jedi Family. All four of us. A complete family.
And then, with bellies full of ham and GRAVY, even, we hugged my family good-bye, and we drove twenty miles out to Small Mountain Town to celebrate Easter afternoon with Hubs’ parents and brothers and their families.
Grammy and Papa had an Easter egg hunt for all the kiddos. It was outside, because their Easter Bunny wasn’t too cold to venture out there to hide all the eggs.
Thing 2 didn’t get to hunt eggs, because all the other kids could run faster than he can. Thankfully, he didn’t mind missing out on the hunt, because there was always someone willing to cuddle him. Miss R and her bunny rabbit cheeks took her job as Baby Holder very seriously. So seriously, in fact, she wasn’t always willing to SHARE the baby! We’re lining her up as our next babysitter!
And by volcanic kick, let me tell you the recipe:
A cup of cayenne pepper, a cup of jalapeno juice, a cup of diced habaneros, a cup of toxic waste, a cup of battery acid, and a cup of bleach. Mix well into a paste and spread on toast. Eat at your own risk. I tried one, and my lips melted off of my face.
The boy and Cousin W decided to see which one of them was man enough to eat an entire piece of Spicy Toast.
They each grabbed a piece, and I said, “One, two, THREE!” And then they popped them into their mouths and chewed, only I possess PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE that someone MERELY PRETENDED to take a bite, and then he threw his UNTOUCHED chunk of Spicy Toast into the garbage can behind him, and he pretended to chew.
And that, in a rather-wordy nutshell, was our Easter weekend.
Happy Monday night, y’all, and may all your bedding be booger-free in the morning.