Easter is just over a month away which means it’s time for my annual re-posting of our fabulous Easter egg tradition in case you’d like to try it this year, too!
Below you’ll find my original post from 2014 about how we avoid plastic eggs and chocolate overload while still having an awesome egg hunt Easter morning. Enjoy!
“Haggard mom attempting a smile” wasn’t on her scavenger hunt list, but here we are.
Sometimes I like to pretend that I have this parenting thing all figured out and I write parenting advice posts.
I have written a handful of them since birthing my demon into this world, posts like:
But this post, the one you’re reading right now, is the best parenting post I’ll ever write because it explains how to parent from bed.
Image via CNN
“I cannot put into words how heartbreaking it is to see grown adults that I know and love decide only now to take to the streets. I’m glad you’re doing something. But…weren’t we worth it before? Why weren’t we reason enough? Where have you been? And where will you be once this doesn’t impact you directly anymore?”
On Saturday, Olive and I joined millions of other women around the world at the Women’s March.
I remember reading a great quote many years ago that said you shouldn’t do anything for your children that they were capable of doing for themselves. I loved it, and kept it in mind for when I had my own kids. I’d be the mom whose kids were doing their laundry by age five! Fantastic.
But of course, as is always the case, people without kids make the best parents. When I actually had my own child, things suddenly looked a whole lot different. I found myself dealing with an actual human being, with her own desires and opinions, not the pleasantly compliant child of my imaginings.
I still believe in the message of that quote wholeheartedly (despite the sometimes-problematic nature of parenting “should’s ) but godDAMN is it easier said than done. Beyond lots (and lots) of reminders, there have been a few things I’ve found really help Olive become independent and self-reliant, and a lot of it has to do with how our home is set up.
My marriage split open on November 20, 2014, and I made the decision to end it on December 15, 2014.
I don’t think there’s ever really a good time for this sort of thing to happen, but doing it immediately before such a staggering season of events – Christmas, then my 31st birthday, then New Year’s and then Valentine’s Day – felt like a barrage of punches to the face in quick succession. Bam bam bam bam bam.
That first Christmas, I invited Olive’s dad to spend Christmas day with us. I was in shock and I didn’t know quite what else to do. I was still trying to pretend things were normal, desperate for Olive to hold onto the sense that things were fine, even though I knew they would soon be very, very different.