Easterish

I've gotta say... this was a rather uneventful Easter. Typically, we're either having brunch at Southern Hills or hunting eggs in my mom's back yard. But my mom is a little overwhelmed with all she has going on. She's getting married soon - and while it's good stress for her, it's still stress. And a trip to Tulsa just wasn't on the agenda.

So, someone suggested going to the park, bringing our own food, and hanging out in the wind with all the other Easter folks without a sufficient-not-my back yard to hunt in. It was actually pretty nice out. But nothing really came together like it was an Easter Sunday. I never hemmed any khakis that needed hemming. The little, yellow linen dress I found was too big on the baby - and I could tell she just wasn't having it... not because she stopped fussing after I changed her out of it - just because I'm a mother and I know these things. She told me, okay?

I got myself ready - I asked Brent if my shoes looked ridiculous [because I typically buy the funkier shoe, and end up wearing the same black pair every day because I won't tell you what Brent calls the kinds of shoes I like]. Anyway, I was all together. But Brent was still flipping pancakes by the time I would have liked to have been heading churchwardly. Still, there was time for him to be ready and on-time on any other not-Easter Sunday - and I only found this out after I decided to go ahead with the baby as I was going to have to leave the guys to themselves in order to secure a spot in the private nursing room [closet] anyway.

They've got a monitor to watch the service, but there is one glider-rocking chair in there that is of the devil and refuses to glide. And I don't want that one. And there are only three to choose from total. So, I needed to get an earlier-than-usual move on - for prime nursing seating, not because a vast population decides to attend church on Easter Sunday only. Of course I didn't leave early enough. There was a GIANT line to even enter the long driveway leading to the parking lot. I was able to see the gravity of the situation from the other side of the highway - where - I decided, entirely impulsively, to make a U-Turn and go home.

I kicked off my shoes and changed the baby out of her God-forsaken get-up to put her down for the nap she was yelling about. I smeared peanut butter and drizzled syrup over the pancakes Brent left for me. And then I finally met up at the park with my brother's family who went home 10 minutes after I arrived to take the niece for her nap. I still received the traditional pair of flip-flops. I cannot even remember an Easter I didn't get flip-flops. I haven't the foggiest idea where the custom came from, but at this point, not getting any is simply against the law.

Speaking of law - who on earth started the Easter Sunday chant "He is risen!" to be replied with "He is risen indeed!"? I used to think it was an ancient Presbyterian in a long robe. But when people use the word "indeed" around me or expect me to yell it back at them - I almost feel like I should be at some Medieval fair or drinking from a pewter poison chalice. Why can't I say "Yep!" or "AND HOW!" without being corrected? "No, it's He is risen indeed." It's just so rulesy and we all know how I like to break rules one right after another.