Holy

We visited the great-grandmas last Saturday. Mine fretted most of the time because, as my cousin C said, "So many men; so little time." We should all have her problems. Of course, she also stopped to praise my kids for their appetites, but I think it has more to do with her awesome cooking.

Husband's grandmother was a little tired but we didn't get around to seeing her until after 5 and she already had a full day at her seniors' group bingoing and cribbaging her 87-year-old heart out. We ordered a pizza and she solved the mystery of the big bang we heard the last time we were there. Apparently, one of our kids (Daughter later confessed to the Grande Dame) fell down the laundry chute from her bathroom linen closet. Luckily, Daughter fell on her bum onto a pile of laundry on top of the washing machine and no harm was done. What possessed her? I dunno. That's another mystery to solve, I guess.

Better than any chocolate that we could have received, Husband's eldest aunt gave him a Ziploc crammed with the letters she saved from Husband's mother over the years. We got back to my parents' place and spent hours reading them all. Oh. My. God. We read these letters and filled in between the lines with the stuff we know and, well, it was enlightening. Nice to know how she parented her kids, so if she ever has the balls to criticize me again, at the very least I can at least have a smug look. Oh, and there's no denying that Husband was conceived out of wedlock. Put it this way, if Husband didn't look so much like her ex-husband, I'd question his paternity. And I chose this family.

I still would, though. The big guy is putting the kids to bed right now. They've been putting off bedtime for an hour and I've let it slide because I've been sick off and on for a week now. Yeah, I fasted for Good Friday. I was puking my guts out.

Easter Sunday was spent at my parents' place. They dragged my ass to Mass, first telling me I had time and then not two minutes later, they're yelling at me for taking so much damned time getting Daughter's booster seat out of our van and into theirs. "We don't need it. We need to get to church now more!" "You want (Daughter) to go? Then you need the booster seat. It's the law!" More yelling at me for being such a feet-dragger, doing "everything half-assed", etc. Seriously. So I just said loudly, "How dare you talk to me that way in front of my child. You should know better and, oh yeah, what a nice way you guys started off this holiest of holy days! Good job." And then, like some freak, my mother says sweetly, "Oh look, honey! That house has all those nice Easter decorations." I knew that was my cue to forget everything that was said.

Anyway, after Mass, an old friend of mine from high school tapped me on the shoulder. The last time I saw him, he directed my aunt's funeral at the mortuary he manages. It was funny because he was all Mr. Funeral Director and then my middle sister and I got his attention and he became the little goofball he was in high school, all giddy and jokey. Anyway, it turns out the guy lives around the corner from my parents. It was weird to see him because as I was walking up for communion, I felt eyes on me and I thought, "Someone knows me here."

We got home and Mum and I got the big lunch ready. Actually, Mum had most of it prepared. She makes more of a fuss with Easter than any other holiday, including Christmas. She had new clothes for the kids, as well as figolli (jumbo Maltese Easter cookies) and a ton of plastic eggs filled with money and chocolates and notes to hunt for crackers and Dunkaroos and chips and stuff. She doesn't cook for Christmas but we had turkey and a ham for just my family and my parents. Thankfully, everyone had an appetite. Middle Child inherited his Uncle C's childhood habit of kinda moaning when he's enjoying his food. That got my mum's attention. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He didn't even look up from his garlic roasted potatoes.

The kids waited until around 5 for their cousins to show. They played their hearts out, knowing we were going home soon. Of course, when we called them in, the girls pitched a fit. It was awful. She was still crying 15 minutes down the highway. Middle Child somehow fell asleep and Baby Boy just kept singing the Sith tune from Star Wars.

This evening, Daughter and I went to church for a first communion thing. I thought it was another meeting. Nope. It was a mass. Thankfully, at the last minute, I thought I should change her (and me) out of the grubby clothes. I just put on a white collared shirt with my jeans. Good enough. I put Daughter in a boho top and skirt. Good thing because most of the other kids were dressed nice. The priest asked a couple of questions, then said he'd give a loonie to anyone who could answer his tough question. Daughter got it (answer was "Passover" but her class just did a playfor the school last Thusday, so she had an edge). After, all the kids got a fresh loaf of baked bread. No wine though. That's waiting for me right now.