Easter Sunday—-2K14

Happy Easter to all!


This day finds me a bit happy, a tad sad, with a little hope thrown in.  I’ve neglected my blog as of late simply because my life is boring, quite frankly.   I do all the things that everyone else does.  I have a wonderful bundle of two year old joy that keeps me entertained.  I try to exercise.  I try to read.  I attempt to write.   I avoid cooking and cleaning as much as possible.  I have a stack of laundry that begs for my attention.  It’s really the same, ol’, same ol’ day after day.  I feel that I don’t have anything profound to say anymore.

I just feel quiet.

But today is Easter and so in an attempt to preserve some family memories, I’ll blog.

I’m happy today because I’m so truly blessed with every good thing that really matters in this world:  family, friends, faith, and health.

I’m a tad sad because we haven’t been to church for the past two Easters.  We have yet to find a good church home and that makes me sad.  Recently, when we went back to our hometown we visited our church and it was so wonderful, so refreshing.  I wish my dear old Briarwood would pack up and move here, then I would have the perfect world.  Sure, I understand that I don’t need a church to worship, I can worship right in my own front yard,  but I miss the fellowship and the sharing with a body of believers.

But of course, I keep my hope and I believe good things are always heading my way.  A wonderful church, included.

For Easter Sunday, we did the “thing”.  We colored eggs and had an egg hunt.


We attempted to take a family picture with a self timer on our camera.  I regret to inform you that we did not get a good one.  Big surprise!



The house is now scattered with candy wrappings and EK is green up to her elbows.


She fell asleep after her sugar crash reading Beauty and the Beast and I am soon to join her for a little siesta.  All in all, I’d say we had some great Easter success.


Most importantly….

He lives, he lives, Christ Jesus lives today.

You ask me how I know he lives? He lives within my heart.

I sang that to EK today, and she got a kick out of it, especially when I tried to hit the high notes.

I hope you too had a blessed Easter, spent with your loved ones celebrating the true meaning of the day.

God Bless you and yours.




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).