Our First Holiday without Jameson
I knew right away that holidays would be horrible. I don't like using the word "suck" but it tends to fit perfectly for a lot of my life right now. Holidays suck.
The only positive spin I can put on this is that we have quite a ways to go before we have to worry about Jameson's birthday, Halloween, and Christmas. These will be torture, I know.
It's not that Easter isn't important. Our old pastor called it the Super Bowl for Christians. It's just that we never really had any major family traditions for Easter. I'm not really sure why. I guess I could never really get into the whole idea of the Easter Bunny. After Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine's Day within the 6 months leading up to Easter, I was pretty much candied out. Every year, by Easter, we had had months of holiday confections collected, usually sitting in the pantry forgotten. So the idea of giving my kids a giant chocolate bunny seemed pointless.
I remember the year, though, that I started to at least attempt to give Easter baskets. Jameson was about 3 years old and Rhys was two. Dan and I had never told the boys about the Easter Bunny. They didn't go to preschool yet, so the only other place they could have learned about it was at church. I find this odd that church is where they heard of the Easter Bunny. Up until this year, I had never gotten the boys Easter baskets. Our little tradition had been an egg hunt in the front yard after nap time.
To my surprise, we woke up that Easter morning and Jameson came down the stairs, excited. "The Easter Bunny came! The Easter Bunny came!" Except he hadn't. The Easter Bunny had never been to our house before. I felt horrible. I was the worst mom in the world. Luckily, it was raining that morning, so we attributed the lack of a basket to the weather. Apparently, the Easter Bunny does not like to get wet, but maybe he'll visit later. Jameson, being such an easy going, content little guy, wasn't bothered at all.
Our church had two Easter services that morning, with about an hour in between. After the first service, I snuck over to Walmart and grabbed some goodies to make into Easter baskets before I had to return to help in the nursery. I was that mom. The one who wasn't prepared for Easter and had to go to Walmart at the very last possible minute.
I have another memory of Jameson and Easter. It may have even been that same year. We had told the boys to ask before they ate candy from their baskets. At one point one evening, Dan and I couldn't find Jameson. Finally, we found him on the floor of our bedroom closet with his Easter basket, partaking in some delicious chocolate eggs. We knew, as parents, it was our job to get mad, give a lecture about honesty and not eating too much candy, etc. Instead, it was one of those moments where we just had to laugh. I mean, who hasn't wanted to hide in a closet with a basket full of chocolate? It sounds like something any typical kid would try to pull.
It stings that there will never be anymore holiday memories made with Jameson. No more egg hunts in the yard. No more Easter baskets. No more ham dinners. No more dressing up.
This Easter, the holiday feels forced. It's like when you're standing in the shallows at the beach and you see a wave coming towards you. You know it's coming. You can't make it stop. You have to do something. You have to acknowledge it and move.
I feel guilty not wanting to celebrate Easter this year. I don't really want to do anything. I don't want to sit at home and sleep. I don't want to watch movies. Every day is waking up, doing one or two things to fake feeling productive, and then spending the rest of the day just waiting for sleep, the only relief. Easter is no different.
I didn't get Rhys a basket this year. I've wanted to keep holidays as normal as I can for him. He deserves it and I know it's good for him. It's just that I couldn't bring myself to go shopping for stuff for his Easter basket. How could I go into Walmart and shop for only one basket when, for almost a decade, I had bought two of everything (sibling Easter baskets need to match and be fair). I had had these hopes of creating new traditions for holidays so I could try to bring a little joy back into them. But for this holiday, it's too soon. I don't have the energy yet. Maybe I never will.
I did muster up enough energy to make Rhys some bird nest cookies, something I've made for the boys' baskets for the last few years. They are no bake cookies that resemble bird nests with little candy eggs in them. I also tried to make him some peanut butter filled eggs, but those turned out terribly messy and hardly look like eggs at all. Not that Rhys would care. They taste good and that's all that matters to him. I'll also hide some eggs for him tomorrow.
We also dyed eggs this afternoon. I wanted to find the very easiest way to decorate eggs. I didn't feel like gathering supplies. We ended up coloring on coffee filters with markers, wrapping the filters around the eggs, and spraying a vinegar/water mixture on them. They turned out really pretty.
I tried. Sort of. My goal this year will just be to survive the holiday without crying too much. If you see me on Easter, please give me a hug and remind me of the amazing celebration that Jameson must be experiencing. I love hearing about Heaven and what people think Jameson is doing there. Knowing where my little boy is one of the few things that comforts me.
The only positive spin I can put on this is that we have quite a ways to go before we have to worry about Jameson's birthday, Halloween, and Christmas. These will be torture, I know.
It's not that Easter isn't important. Our old pastor called it the Super Bowl for Christians. It's just that we never really had any major family traditions for Easter. I'm not really sure why. I guess I could never really get into the whole idea of the Easter Bunny. After Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine's Day within the 6 months leading up to Easter, I was pretty much candied out. Every year, by Easter, we had had months of holiday confections collected, usually sitting in the pantry forgotten. So the idea of giving my kids a giant chocolate bunny seemed pointless.
I remember the year, though, that I started to at least attempt to give Easter baskets. Jameson was about 3 years old and Rhys was two. Dan and I had never told the boys about the Easter Bunny. They didn't go to preschool yet, so the only other place they could have learned about it was at church. I find this odd that church is where they heard of the Easter Bunny. Up until this year, I had never gotten the boys Easter baskets. Our little tradition had been an egg hunt in the front yard after nap time.
To my surprise, we woke up that Easter morning and Jameson came down the stairs, excited. "The Easter Bunny came! The Easter Bunny came!" Except he hadn't. The Easter Bunny had never been to our house before. I felt horrible. I was the worst mom in the world. Luckily, it was raining that morning, so we attributed the lack of a basket to the weather. Apparently, the Easter Bunny does not like to get wet, but maybe he'll visit later. Jameson, being such an easy going, content little guy, wasn't bothered at all.
Our church had two Easter services that morning, with about an hour in between. After the first service, I snuck over to Walmart and grabbed some goodies to make into Easter baskets before I had to return to help in the nursery. I was that mom. The one who wasn't prepared for Easter and had to go to Walmart at the very last possible minute.
I have another memory of Jameson and Easter. It may have even been that same year. We had told the boys to ask before they ate candy from their baskets. At one point one evening, Dan and I couldn't find Jameson. Finally, we found him on the floor of our bedroom closet with his Easter basket, partaking in some delicious chocolate eggs. We knew, as parents, it was our job to get mad, give a lecture about honesty and not eating too much candy, etc. Instead, it was one of those moments where we just had to laugh. I mean, who hasn't wanted to hide in a closet with a basket full of chocolate? It sounds like something any typical kid would try to pull.
It stings that there will never be anymore holiday memories made with Jameson. No more egg hunts in the yard. No more Easter baskets. No more ham dinners. No more dressing up.
This Easter, the holiday feels forced. It's like when you're standing in the shallows at the beach and you see a wave coming towards you. You know it's coming. You can't make it stop. You have to do something. You have to acknowledge it and move.
I feel guilty not wanting to celebrate Easter this year. I don't really want to do anything. I don't want to sit at home and sleep. I don't want to watch movies. Every day is waking up, doing one or two things to fake feeling productive, and then spending the rest of the day just waiting for sleep, the only relief. Easter is no different.
I didn't get Rhys a basket this year. I've wanted to keep holidays as normal as I can for him. He deserves it and I know it's good for him. It's just that I couldn't bring myself to go shopping for stuff for his Easter basket. How could I go into Walmart and shop for only one basket when, for almost a decade, I had bought two of everything (sibling Easter baskets need to match and be fair). I had had these hopes of creating new traditions for holidays so I could try to bring a little joy back into them. But for this holiday, it's too soon. I don't have the energy yet. Maybe I never will.
I did muster up enough energy to make Rhys some bird nest cookies, something I've made for the boys' baskets for the last few years. They are no bake cookies that resemble bird nests with little candy eggs in them. I also tried to make him some peanut butter filled eggs, but those turned out terribly messy and hardly look like eggs at all. Not that Rhys would care. They taste good and that's all that matters to him. I'll also hide some eggs for him tomorrow.
We also dyed eggs this afternoon. I wanted to find the very easiest way to decorate eggs. I didn't feel like gathering supplies. We ended up coloring on coffee filters with markers, wrapping the filters around the eggs, and spraying a vinegar/water mixture on them. They turned out really pretty.
I tried. Sort of. My goal this year will just be to survive the holiday without crying too much. If you see me on Easter, please give me a hug and remind me of the amazing celebration that Jameson must be experiencing. I love hearing about Heaven and what people think Jameson is doing there. Knowing where my little boy is one of the few things that comforts me.
Jameson's very first Easter, six months old
Easter 2013- I loved dressing up my handsome boys
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