Happy Easter

Easter is coming faster that I would have liked. Another holiday to hurry and up and wait for.

It never fails... every year I have the best intentions to get all the shopping done on time and sit back, relax, and wait for the moments to come. However, that would just be too damn easy for my mindset.

I find myself at 11 o'clock at night, rolling my eyes at the back of some idiot's head in the checkout line, because they are exchanging recipes with the cashier, all the while the eggs in my cart all but seem to have incubated and hatched. I should be more patient, but honestly, it is a bit rude not to take into consideration that procrastinators (such as myself) are on borrowed time.

I think there should be time limits at checkout lines. If you can't get it right the first time, you have to go to the end of the line. In fact, I'll take it further. They should have a line set up special for those that A): cannot count past 10 items, and B): have screaming children throwing themselves into a limp mess on the floor, faces so red you wonder how long it will be before they pass out.
I do feel for these moms and dads. I am a mom so I know, that like C4, a child can blow - leaving you there, shell shocked, with waves of embarrassment radiating off of you like radon.

I had that happen to me once - and only once. Cameron was 10 months old. Instead of finishing my transaction. I simply took him in my arms, took my purse, and walked out of the store (of course only to realize I left my car keys dangling in the cart I had abandoned). That was a fun day.

I end up smiling warily and shuffle forward, secretly wishing 42inch tires and an obnoxious air horn were mounted on my shopping cart.

I get home, go to my closet and proceed to stuff eggs with chewy gelatin byproducts. As I am filling the eggs my mind begins to roam, as it usually does when I am doing mindless tasks.

I can't for the life of me figure out who in the Hell would have thought it a great idea to make a jelly bean that tasted like buttered popcorn. I love popcorn - and the more butter the better, but in a jelly bean? That's just wrong. I snicker and tell myself that must be what the Easter Bunny brings all the bad little girls and boys.

After my legs are fairly numb from sitting cross legged for so long, meticulously placing even numbers into each egg (because Lord help me if one gets more than the other) I stretch out and take in the Easter carnage laying on my closet floor.

I gather all of the empty bags and plastic wrappers to throw them away. I have to shove them to the bottom of the garbage so the kids won't notice the Easter Bunny has used their local Wal Mart to do their Easter shopping, and because Cameron has learned to look through to see if I have thrown any of his things away. Let me clarify. I don't throw his toys away - that would be heartless. I throw out things such as trucks with three wheels, or broken crayons. For whatever reason, he - like his father - cannot get rid of anything.

I place the baskets neatly on the dining room table and wait for the morning to come. That moment, the moment where they come from their rooms, grinning and giggling, in a full run to see what goodies were delivered during the night, is what makes it all worth it.