Easter Recap

Why is dying eggs such a fun activity? It just is. I love watching my kids dye eggs!



And hunting for them, too! One of my very favorite things that I will remember about this particular Easter (my Grandma Dot's most favoritist day!) is how sweet Tommy was, as a big brother. He showed Scotty the ropes on coloring eggs, and he was so sweet, sharing the joys of finding the eggs in our back yard. With a three year old, you can just sort of...lay the eggs about... rather than actually hiding them. So, it was with some great restraint that Tommy was able to keep himself from scooping all the eggs in plain view! Instead, he'd pick one or two, then he'd tell Scotty, "I see another egg! Can you find it?" and he'd escort Scotty to an egg to put in his basket.

It's funny, when I was pregnant with Scotty, I really worried about how it would work out, this whole having to love two kids thing. I thought maybe I would have to love Tommy less, in order to make room for the new baby. I worried I could never love Scotty as much as I loved Tommy. How wrong I was, on both counts! I fell in love with Scotty the moment I met him; just as I fell in love with Tommy the moment I met him. It was like coming up from living underwater for my whole life, and breathing air for the first time. One thing I've noticed again and again, is that watching Tommy loving Scotty, it makes me love him even more. And even though I can remember worrying, I can't remember what it felt like to worry about such things.

I'm laughing a little right now, because it's been my exact experience with labor! I mean, I know it hurt, and I can remember that it hurt, but I have no recollection of the pain itself. The memory of the pain is real; the pain itself, I cannot conjure. Have you ever watched somebody get hurt? Fall off a skateboard, or rasp their knuckles against the cheese grater? You know that feeling, where you cringe, look away, catch your breath? It's because you can totally relate to the pain; it's all empathic response. I can totally watch somebody in labor, and I feel no empathy at all. I believe them, that it hurts, I really do! But I have no empathic response, because I just don't remember it. I can't relate at all. And it wasn't because of great drugs either, as Scotty was ushered into the world with nothing but two Motrin for "pain relief". Thanks for nothing.


A new tradition I started this year was to buy each of them one of these eggs with their names on them. I got them at an ice cream shop (Yes, the same one we went to with Kelly and Moose!) and I just love them. Don't they seem so quaint, so old-fashioned?

And here you go. This is what happens when certain people get 90% of their daily calories from peeps and chocolate eggs! Major sugar crash. And some of the cutest freckles I've ever seen. :)