Dying Eggs

I told myself to chill.  I told myself to give up the mommy control.  That this whole Easter egg dying thingiemajigger is about the process, the experience, not the end product.

I think it might have been one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

You know how in your mind, everything works out?  You plan.  You think.  You attempt to avoid catastrophes.

I had it under control.  Sort of.  I put her in play clothes.  I planned to go outside.   She was to sit on a towel.  I had my camera ready.   All the supplies were ready to go.  The glasses were heavy as not to be knocked over easily.  I had a whisk ready to hold the egg all neat and tidy.   I had my almost 14 year old niece to assist (ha!).  I was relaxed.  I was ready.  Sort of.

And then we started making the egg dye water and Emma Kate got the food coloring open when I turned my back for maybe 2 minutes to consult the directions.  (If you know me at all, you know I am not a whiz in the kitchen and yes, I need directions to color water).

I told myself that wasn’t a big deal.  It would wear off.  Just keep calm and color eggs.  So with Ash’s help, we got the glasses of colored water ready, we got the camera, we got the towel, the eggs, the whisk, the carton, oh and don’t forget the baby, does somebody have the baby?  We went out to a sunshiny spot in the yard.

And that’s when I no longer had it under control.  EK didn’t sit on the towel calmly like my mind told me she would.  She didn’t use the whisk like it was intended.  She stood and she chunked eggs in glasses with the force of a major league ball pitcher.  Water splashed, she oohed and aahed, she reached in with both hands, grabbing eggs out of water cups, cramming them on top of other eggs in other cups, taking cracked, shattered eggs and breaking them apart like she was ready to scramble them up.  She cheered herself on, throwing them down when she was done, picking them up again, wet and covered in grass and dirt, putting them in her mouth.

Okay, okay,  I repeated to myself.  Everything’s okay, I tried reassuring myself as I tried taking pictures of this train wreck while avoiding a standing baby falling on top of the glasses, squatting and knocking things over, all the while my “assistant”  Ashlynn decided to bring out nail polish and paint her eggs literally, and just to be sure that you know, nail polish has no appeal to a baby!!!!  Hahahahaha!

We ended up with a cracked, shattered mess of muckledydunn eggs, nail polish on our hands, clothes, and mouth, grass and dirt debris galore, and  an experience.  The jury is still out on whether or not it was a good experience.

I know what she learned, however.  She learned whenever she sees an egg, and remember we have chickens, if she ever gets her hands on it, she will slam it into the ground like a ball.

And it will all be okay, (trying to convince myself).