Happy Easter. Happy Birthday. Happy Me. Sorta……
Today marks the 37th year I have been on the earth. And surprisingly, that was not so hard to write. As I edge closer to the big 4….0….. I find myself gasping for air. And it’s not actually until I wrote that, I realised maybe that has something to do with how I am feeling today. Rather ho-hum. It certainly doesn’t help having to share your birthday with a friggin bunny! But them’s the breaks……
A lovely friend of mine Ms Gemma over at Pretty Bobbins asked a question a little earlier. “Do your kids really believe in Easter?” Hmmmm…… I shared with her that I asked the same thing of my husband last night. Ms Chelsea will be nine years old next month, and she is an intelligent human being. As we were gnawing on a carrot and delicately rearranging the kid’s notes to the bunny whilst tipping out the milk they had left, I questioned how such an intelligent little girl hadn’t cottoned on to the Bunny yet? I mean, how on earth does a bunny manage to spread foil wrapped chocolate eggs oh so precariously through our front yard? How does the same bunny manage to leave presents inside on the coffee table for them too? Really?
I cannot for the life of me remember when I stopped believing. I do recall us kids getting caught out one year, finding Mum’s stash of Christmas presents in her walk in wardrobe. In my defence, my older sister found them, and
encouraged made me participate in the pulling them out part. I think we were told Christmas would not be happening that year! But it did….
I also can’t remember when Lochie stopped believing. Is that bad? He is only 13, so surely it was only a few years ago that he worked it out? My memory is failing……is that part of getting old?
I have been feeling guilty the past week, about my lack of interest in Easter. My lack of enthusiasm for Easter craft, Easter cooking, Easter anything. I stashed all the easter eggs outside in the hood of the pram that sits on our front step, so that when I was woken for the third time overnight, at 6am, I could just go out like some crazed, pyjama-wearing, easter egg throwing Mother. Then crawled back in to bed.
Once the kids were awake, and had ceased trying to be quiet, I opened my eyes to feel the familiar thumping in my head, accompanied by the blurred vision. Fabulous. Migraine. Happy Birthday to me! I followed it up by standing in my front yard, eyes squinted whilst feigning my excitement about kids crawling under plants to discover eggs. Note to self – open eyes at 6am when throwing easter eggs in the dark!
I sound rather bah-humbug don’t I? Things have brightened a little. I took my sad-ass to the shopping centre and punished myself with a 40 minutes chinese massage. That dude found every single sore spot that existed. Or perhaps I am just a walking sore spot? Purchased some pharmaceutical supplies and then called for the husband to bring the kids and meet me for lunch. The haze has lifted, and I may even laugh at some stage today! Oh sorry, I did laugh – when I received text messages from Andrew telling me Chelsea was begging for a kitten. Very frickin funny….
So – back to Easter. We now have a kitchen full of chocolate, and no more mention of the bunny. And nobody has asked what happened to Jesus today. How do you celebrate Easter, if you do? And what does it mean to you?
|Random instagram photos taken whilst out to my birthday lunch. Minus one child!|