Easter

At church.With my brood of Easter chicks.

Church breakfast.

SERIOUS and INTENSE egg hunting.

Her very first egg hunt.

She caught on.

Happy egg hunter.

My springtime girls.

Fair Lorelei.

Sometimes Easter interferes with nap time. And it's hard to cope.

But after a good long nap, we can rally for Egg Hunt #2 at home.

Egg hunt at home.

This year's Easter table! We went for springtime whimsy, and I loved it.

Egg place setting. With hot pink flower chargers. Naturally.

Ready for some ham! Or a roll.

My sweet Charlotte.

Well, now. We had a sweet little Easter this year—my favorite in years, and definitely since the kiddos came along. 

And here's your warning: I haven't blogged in quite some time, so this post ended up obscenely too long. You've been warned.

This year, I massively lowered my expectations, which makes me sound like the Easter equivalent of Scrooge, but it worked. These types of holidays require a lot of work (much of which is self-inflicted—I’ll get to that in a second): Easter baskets (fact: the Easter Bunny is MOMMY), baking, egg dying, stuffing plastic eggs, multiple egg hunts, Sunday best Easter outfits to find and coordinate, being somewhere (church) on time with everyone in said Easter outfits, formal Easter dinner (which requires planning, shopping, and major table setting), concocting a dish for the church potluck, and so on. For added fun, all of this is jammed into two days and, ultimately, hinges on my daughters’ immune systems and nap schedules.

Saturday, I was tightly wound, annoyed at the kids for waking up too early or making messes, or people in Costco dumbly clogging aisles with their heads in the clouds while Lorelei elected to scream her discontent of sitting in the cart. At home, I had to put down an overtired Lorelei who had napped just enough during the drive home that she was totally pissed that I had gall the put her into her crib. Haven't I already slept? she bellowed. Oh, that child screamed bloody murder. Then her crying became scary frantic. We investigated, and lo and behold, the child was sitting in a pile of puke.

“Nooooooooooooo,” Chris and I moaned in unison. Chris gingerly picked up Lorelei and handed her to me, claiming he’d fix the crib mess. It was too late for me to get out of it—I had already been slimed by her sour-smelling stomach contents. I cleaned her up, terrified. So many stomach bugs have been going around, and one of my top three fears is all four of us getting the stomach flu simultaneously. With no family nearby, I’m not sure we’d survive it.

As I cleaned Lorelei, I tried to rationally evaluate the situation. “She might’ve just been peeved about being put to bed,” I told Chris. “Maybe she got herself so worked up, she threw up.”

I searched Lorelei’s face a clue. She looked at me and grinned. “Hi,” she said.

A good sign.

I rocked her to sleep, which took quite a while because I had to first rip her beloved (and vomit-covered) musical seahorse from her arms, which launched hysterics. (Another fact: The directions say that sucker can’t go in the washing machine, but OH YES IT CAN, and on the sanitize cycle, too.)

After a 2-hour nap, Lorelei seemed fine. We even went to the park. She swung for ages and made a thousand trips down the slides. She was fine. Right?

“Ah, but remember how Charlotte had a quick puke and then we dropped almost-dead for two days?” Chris unhelpfully reminded me.

Oh, I worried. That night, Charlotte ate very little dinner—not very typical for her. Then she complained of a tummy ache. Kid #2 had fallen.

I cursed. Easter was CANCELLED! My prayer was merely that Chris and me would have it in a staggered way, so one adult would be functional at any given time.

An hour later, Charlotte was (literally) doing summersaults throughout the house, running, spinning, and jumping. She declared her tummy didn’t hurt any more. Lorelei continued to be jolly. The girls were fine.

I was so relieved, I almost cried. Seriously. After putting Charlotte to bed and listening to her belt out “Let It Go” at the top of her lungs, Chris and I collapsed into a relieved hug. It was a magnificent Saturday night after that—seared tuna, beautiful artichokes, good wine. Sitting out under the stars with a quilt and each other. Nothing like a brush with a stomach virus to make you grab life by the horns. Of course, I was also kind of irked that Lorelei had needlessly put us through that worry. I mean, how dramatic can you get?

Easter morning dawned with Charlotte shouting, “It’s EASTER!” and finding what the Easter Bunny brought her (sunglasses, coloring books, Sofia markers, hair clips, head band, a set of bangle bracelets, bunny ears, and a wand with a long loopy ribbon). Lorelei received a coloring book, head bands, raisins, sidewalk chalk, a Hello Kitty brush, and sunglasses. The plastic Easter grass enthralled her the most.

Next task? Dressing. Lorelei’s Easter dress was my favorite Easter dress EVER for the girls. I found it months ago and had to buy it for her. I would’ve bought one for Charlotte too, if Nordstrom carried it in her size. It’s the sweetest shade of peach, and with ivory tights (MUCH harder to find than you’d think) and ivory patent leather shoes, my little fair-skinned Lorelei was a vision of sweetness in peaches and cream.

Charlotte, as I’ve mentioned before, has become extremely particular about what she wears and harbors a great love of tutus. Although she would’ve happily worn a frilly dress, I stumbled upon a peach tutu, and knew it was perfect for her (it’s more peach than the photos show). A tutu for Charlotte? And it’s peach, too? Score. Of course, the sparkly peachy cardigan seemed like a good idea until my girl ditched it, running around with just the tank top. Sigh. Oh, well.

We headed to church for the Easter breakfast, and this was our most successful Easter breakfast yet. Folding chairs, tablecloths, and food are a dicey combination for toddlers and Charlottes. Despite some squawking here and there, nothing spilled, the girls both ate (independently!), and Chris and I (!) both ate. Victory!

One of my favorite moments of the morning took place right before the congregation-wide prayer prior to the breakfast. Chris and I had divided and conquered, him with Charlotte and me with Lorelei. Gathering in a giant circle around the perimeter of the hall, everyone grabbed hands. Well, I was holding a Lorelei in my right arm, so I didn't have a hand free, and Lorelei is not a fan of strangers, so her holding a hand instead of me was not an option. Then, sweetly, Lorelei laid her head on my shoulder. I smirked over her head at the woman standing next to me. The woman smiled and ever so gently kissed Lorelei on the back of her head. It was just adorable. Our girls scream and cry and run and spill their way through many, many church events, and everyone treats Charlotte and Lorelei like they're incredibly precious and cherished, an imporant part of that little church. And I just love that. 

This was Lorelei’s first year doing the egg hunt, which she loved. The other kids were ridiculously sweet, finding an egg here or there and gently handing it to Lorelei instead of hurling it into their own basket (she was BY FAR the youngest egg hunter).

This year was my year to actually attend the church service. (Chris and I switch each year doing nursery duty.) The service was lovely, though I did find myself looking forward to the days when I might sit through an Easter service with two well-behaved daughters and a handsome suit-clad fellow in the pew next to me, like many of the other families in that small sanctuary. In time, I suppose. 

At home, the girls napped while I stuffed eggs and Chris helped me hide 'em. Charlotte got up and we dyed eggs, which she thought was delightful, and together we did the dining room table. This was one of my favorite tables I've ever done. For starters, I decided to splurge and pick up new candles, fresh flowers, and some cutesy decorations. Target had a 4-pack of egg place mats for ten bucks. I initially bought them for the casual table in our kitchen, but Charlotte was so in love with them that I thought, why the heck not use them for the formal Easter dinner? I already had the hot pink flower chargers I was dying to use. 

This is where the self-inflicted work comes in. It is time-consuming and work-intensive to set these kinds of tables. But I love doing it--I just hate trying to complete it when I have a thousand other demands on me. When I was a wee lass, visiting my aunt and uncle outside of L.A., my aunt put me in charge of setting her giant dining-room table when she was having a fancy schmancy dinner party. She taught me how to properly set a formal table (I still have to refer to my Martha Stewart guide, though--wine glasses throw me every time. Oh, and note my incorrect placement of the bread plate in one of the photos above--I blame a Lorelei distraction.) For better or worse, Auntie Cheryl gave me a love of crystal and china. And table linens. And napkin rings. I even got to tag along to these parties, which seemed so sophisticated and fun, with candlelit, wine-infused (though I was underage until later) gaiety. It was in her dark green dining room (it's no mistake, I think, that my grown-up dining room is also green) where I learned that good food, good wine, and good people go together like . . . good food, good wine, and good people. (After retiring, my aunt went to to real live culinary school and became a real live chef, so when I talk of good food, I'm talking of good food.) Anyhoo, this is relevant to the Easter post, because every time I set one of my formal tables, I think of Auntie Cheryl. It is freaking tradition. This is how Chris and I do Easter--we have no family nearby, so we make Chris's mom's German potato salad and my mom's rolls, and we eat it on china plates in a green dining room like Auntie Cheryl's. Every. Single. Year.

Charlotte gave her Charlotte sparkle, making this one of my most-favorite-ever tables. She had a ball decorating it and was SO delightfully fussy about who would get which egg place mat, how the decorations should be arranged, and so on. In a big way, this year's table reminds me so much of my little girls. Charlotte's joy in placing each pastel item just right reminded me of being a little girl at Easter. 

Eventually, kids were in bed, despite their sugar highs, and Mama had some of that nice white wine she didn't really get a chance to consume during dinner.

I was very pleased, in spite of myself. A picture perfect Easter?Not really. But I really, really loved it.