Monday, April 13, 2009

As One

Easter was always a fabulous holiday for me growing up. My parents, grandparents, Godparents ... everyone went all out.

My mom would get up early and trace the Easter Bunny's footprints throughout our house using a stencil and baking soda. She would fill eggs with scavenger hunt clues that led us to our baskets.

My dad always helped us dye our Easter eggs. We'd peel and eat our colored eggs dipped in Italian Dressing all weekend long. To this day, vinegar makes me think of Easter.

My grandma would spend hours on Saturday rolling, baking, and icing dozens of her famous orange bunny rolls.

My grandpa would hide plastic Easter eggs all over the farm for 14 grandkids to find. We each had a color, size, and quantity to find before we could claim our baskets.

6 Jumbo Pink

I remember sitting anxiously through church ... wearing tights that itched, shoes that rubbed, and playing with the new notebook and sparkly pens I had found in my basket that morning. I remember Lipsmackers in Jelly Bean, Marshmallow, and Chocolate Mint. How we couldn't have any candy in church, or until dinner at noon was over. I remember Dirt cups as dessert, Jello cake in pink, and those little nests made out of corn flakes my mom made.

Yesterday, I became the Easter bunny.

This year, the lil' dude was all about Easter. She had her picture with the Easter Bunny, hunted for eggs, ate jellybeans, and tore into her baskets. Last year, she wore a bright, polka-dotted dress and slept most the time. This year, it became real to me.

As we sat in church yesterday and I balanced my daughter on my lap, so many memories of Easter flooded my memory. Everything I mentioned above. The texture of my crocheted rabbit Easter basket. Zion Lutheran's Easter Egg bake, a recipe that made me cry when my mom included it in my wedding cookbook. The spray-painted Easter tree and tiny wooden ornaments in our living room window.

There is such a fine line between child and adult. How one day I'm clutching that bread bag with my 6 Jumbo Pink note and the next I'm pressing a tiny plaid dress and filing a basket. How instead of spending Easter afternoon trading red jellybeans for white ones, I'm washing hands and looking for lost shoes and coaxing naps from a weary little girl. A little girl who belongs to me, for whom I am responsible for instilling wonderful holiday memories within. How I'm transforming as one person- girl, child. Mama, adult.

On a mission- an egg hunting mission!

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