I am so behind, we're going to pretend that posting about Easter is still relevant. Clearly, it is not. Ryan woke up at 4:30 a.m. on Friday morning hysterical. I walked into his room to find everything covered in shit. And I mean everything. He, of course, wanted to hug and be comforted. I nearly died cleaning up the fall out. One bath and two more blowouts later and my little guy was finally sleeping blissfully for a six hour nap.
I thought it was a fluke belly bug until I was at the grocery store on Saturday alone with the baby (who I was wearing in an Ergo). I had to ditch my order at the deli counter to race to the ladies room. If you've never tried to hover in a public restroom with a baby strapped to your chest, then you haven't lived. I made it back to the deli counter in time to get a whiff of something -- maybe the olive bar -- and I went racing back the way I came. If you've never tried to hold back your own hair while shielding your baby and simultenously vomiting over her head...
You see where this is going. It was an ugly weekend. Joe had to drive down to the grocery store to get me and I spent the first hour back home in the shower so there'd be less to clean up and the rest of Saturday in bed. Sunday I faked it to get through mass, dinner and by the time we were dying Easter eggs I almost felt human again. Almost.
It was a pretty uneventful Easter. I had great expectations for two years old. Namely that I'd be able to create build-up for holidays and such and then see the kids' reactions when those holidays were executed. Saturday night I emerged from my bed to hide plastic eggs for the kids and while they understood that there were eggs and bunnies, they really didn't know why. And they lost interest in the egg finding pretty quickly.
But the looks on their faces when they were engaged were adorable and next year maybe they'll buy into the whole thing a bit more.
Church was an hour spent herding cats and, while I'm pretty sure that our priest delivered a nice sermon, I am also pretty sure that we won't subject ourselves to that again until Christmas. Yes, we're those Catholics. When the kids can sit still, I'll go back. Until then, I don't think it's very Christian of me to squeeze my child's leg while sternly whispering threats into his/her ear for an hour. I get that the holidays are about the religion and not the baskets and the trees, but for now the baskets and the trees will have to suffice.
We had a blast dying eggs and I think, by far, that was my favorite part of the weekend. After the kids got done dying eggs, they promptly tried to eat them shells and all. So I peeled the eggs for them and my babies, who barely eat anything I make them these days, ate hard boiled eggs. Well, Ryan took one bite and then slammed his egg into the table making egg salad. But Reese ate everything but the yolk. She must have seen one of those cholesterol commercials.