Holiday traditions evolve, and that's OK

Growing up as I did, one of many children with lots of aunts and uncles, holidays were always highlighted with big meals. Of course, Thanksgiving was the Queen Mother of all these spreads, but Easter was always right up there, too. My mom and my aunts would cook for days, everything made from scratch. For nearly thirty years, I have tried to live up to that legacy. A few years ago, I had an epiphany.

No matter how long a cook takes to prepare a  meal, no matter how many hard-to-find ingredients are required, no matter how great a  hand-me-down recipe may be, it still takes everyone about a half hour to eat the entire repast. That light bulb came on when my children were young and has grown brighter every year. Yes, my family appreciates my cooking but hey, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

There are several bakeries out there who make better yeast rolls than I do, and I make a pretty mean roll. The Honey Baked Ham Company has me beat hands down in the main course department. Potato salad is sold in every store in the free world, and most of them taste the same - awful. Nobody in my family will eat it anyway. That leaves, say, baked beans (how hard can they be?), deviled eggs (my youngest daughter’s specialty)  and maybe a salad. I will make a dessert or two, just because I enjoy baking.

I had to check myself this year, as I almost crossed a line that I’m not sure I’m ready to cross yet. You see, I have a couple of book signings in Tennessee both Friday and Saturday this weekend, leaving me almost no time to prepare for the family and friends we’re expecting to celebrate with us on Sunday. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a good problem to have, but still…

I was in my local supermarket the other day, and I saw pre-colored eggs for sale. They weren’t the plastic ones you fill with surprises and hide; they were actual eggs someone else had dyed and packaged, probably last summer but I don’t know that for sure. I actually picked up a carton or two, then stopped myself.

 

The day I get too busy to dye Easter eggs is the day I’m way too busy. That vinegary smell and the hopelessly stained dog fur and little fingers that go with egg dyeing are all part of the experience. I can do without slaving in the kitchen; I won’t do without the family memories. Truth be told, I think I enjoy the activity more than the children ever did.

Bunnies and chocolate and baskets, oh my!

I went to the supermarket the other day to pick up a few things we needed for a small get-together at our house. A few aisles into the store, I came across the holiday aisle, and it pulsated and glowed with pastel-colored tinfoil, colorful Easter baskets, brightly wrapped egg-shaped candy, hard marshmallow chicks and jelly beans.  Parked at the end of that same aisle was a bargain cart loaded up with Valentine’s Day merchandise, all clearance priced.

I love the holidays, any of them. Maybe it’s because there’s color-coordinated candy that goes along with most of them. I often wonder who thinks up the different themes. I mean think about it; we all know the actual reason for Easter. It’s a day for celebration for Christians everywhere, as well as a day to reflect upon a sorrowful and somber occasion. Who took that and ran with it, coming up with hidden eggs, bunny rabbits and jelly beans as a way to celebrate? I mean I’m not complaining about the candy but still, you have to wonder. Who decided that Easter was the time to dye, then hide, then find, eggs?

I think the most bizzare Easter candy I’ve seen on the shelves is the chocolate crosses, the tools of  crucifixion.  I just can’t do it, even if it’s filled with peanut butter. Somebody got their signals crossed on that one.

I know. I should lighten up.

Carole Townsend is also a Gwinnett Daily Post staff correspondent and author of the recently-released book, “Southern Fried White Trash.” The book takes a humorous look at families and how we behave when thrown together for weddings, funerals and holidays. She has been quoted on msnbc.com, in the LA Times, USA Today and the Christian Science Monitor, been featured on FOX 5 News and CNN, and is often a guest on television and radio shows nationwide.

Wow. Raise your hand if you made it through another family holiday!

We did! And I don't say that for the typical reasons about which I often write. We had a whole new experience this year. You see, my Dad stayed at his retirement home and had brunch with my sister and niece. When he comes to my house for a holiday dinner, he no longer enjoys it like he used to. He complains about the cuisine, feeds my dogs from the table, says my house is too busy and noisy and wants to leave pretty much as soon as he eats. It's nerve-wracking.

No, this year my son's girlfriend and two babies stayed the weekend with us. Well, my son lives here anyway. His girlfriend is in the process of moving down here from north Georgia and needed a place to stay until the house was ready. So being the mean grouch that I am, I of course agreed.

The babies are 14 months and 2 1/2 years old. Within 15 minutes of their arrival, I was reminded of why God only gives women a set number of eggs, and they only stay viable for so long. Don't get me wrong; they aren't bad children. They're just little, very young. They don't understand that it's been 15+ years since my house was kid-proof. My dogs don't understand little creatures that run, crawl, clumb, pull, pinch and slobber on them. They were both very patient and never snapped, growled or even sighed too loud, but when they did get a brief break, they collapsed and slept like the dead. My husband periodically disappeared occasionally during their stay. I don't know where he went and I didn't ask. He's a wonderful man, but little little ones perplex him. I think they get on his nerves a bit, too.

The girlfriend and babies are at the new house cleaning, unpacking and preparing to move everything else in and stay there permanently. My dogs are grateful and relieved. I can tell. I am relishing the quiet as I never have before. I think I have scrubbed every little fingerprint, oatmeal blob and slobber trail left in my house, even though I believe they will return  here in just a few hours to spend one last night.

I have learned a few things about myself this weekend, and here goes:

- Yes, I still love holidays. Norman Rockwell would have been  a bit disappointed yet again, but it is what it is.
- I love babies, but only in small doses and when I can leave the room or hand them back when I've reached my limit.
- When the babies are my grandchildren someday, they can do as they please, and I will cherish every minute. Do-overs don't suck.
- Poopy diapers and barf are even more nauseating when your kid doesn't produce them.

Oh, Happy Easter!

I don't get the connection between Baby Ruths and Easter.

How on earth did M&M Mars and Nestle get in on the Easter thing? How about Jellybeans or Skittles? What's that all about? Do you know that I actually saw a chocolate cross packaged in cellophane and cardboard in the Easter basket section at our favorite big-box retailer yesterday? A cross! The symbol of the most painful, heartless, cruel death man has ever concocted. I wonder if there was a smaller package of chocolate marshmallow nails near the cross. Jesus has to be puzzled, and more than a little disappointed.

Without getting too preachy or sounding like a thumper, Easter is a miracle. It's a gift. It was born of the most selfless love ever known, and it involved pain, humiliation and a horrible, protracted death. So of course, we make a chocolate cross to commemorate the occasion.

I am just as guilty as anyone else of propagating the chocolate/Easter connection. I absolutely love creating beautiful Easter baskets for everyone in my family, including my husband and grown children. I guess I always will. I suppose somewhere along the way Man, in all his wisdom and self indulgence, figured that chocolate makes everything better, more palatable if you will.

Today is Good Friday. I never understood that name, all things considered. But even more importantly, Sunday is Easter. Chocolate bunnies everywhere will get eaten one ear at a time. Millions of jellybeans will be devoured, and truckloads of eggs will be colored, deviled and consumed. Hopefully, during all the hullabaloo, we will each pause and consider what all this is really about.

And to the guy who thought up the chocolate cross, I dunno dude. Seems in awfully bad taste to me.