Of course, there are probably shades of grey between World’s Worst Parent and Total Parenting Genius, but I’ll ignore them for a moment. Nuance is not as much fun as hyperbole.
So here’s my bid for the Worst Parent title: We’re not doing Easter.
We had an egg hunt for Peanut’s birthday party last month. And I used up all my non-candy, non-toxic, secular egg-filling ideas back then.
So we’re not having an egg hunt. Or Easter baskets. Or any recognition of the holiday other than a journey to some awesome friends’ party.
I guess that means I’m making our friends do all the work in Easter’s name. And since this is two years in a row, I guess my kids will associate this holiday with someone else’s family and the expectations will be aimed squarely at *them* next year.
This slacker idea is looking better and better.
Terrible? I don’t know…seems that if we don’t celebrate the Jesus part of Easter we shouldn’t get the other stuff. And that if we have three birthdays in March I’m allowed to skate past a holiday I find ridiculous. (The secular part is ridiculous. The religious part is entirely your business and I totally get why you’d celebrate it. I’m quibbling with the bunny who poops chocolate, not with your Lord.)
Awesome? I don’t know…seems as though my entitled, still reeling from the glow of several birthday parties kids are missing out on something magical. Like a springtime festival of…oh, wait, we do that for the equinox. Like a raucous search for plastic eggs…oh, wait, we did that already. Well, certainly they’re being robbed of the chance to…dye eggs? Get plastic grass all over the house? Eat candy?
Doesn’t sound genius, but it sure doesn’t sound as bad as, say, hissing through clenched teeth on an airplane “Please, for the sake of all that’s holy, knock it off and use your inside voices because we’re stuck in this plane for four more hours and I swear to God I’m going to lose it if you both scream one more time!”
I just know I’m not doing any more holidays for a while. Frivolity is all fun and games until…until someone loses an eye? Steps on a wayward jelly bean? I don’t know. I’m just saying “no” this year.
Or, more to the point, I’m not saying anything at all.
I had kind of a similar dilemma with Santa Claus. Why does my child need to believe in this, exactly? He’s missing out if he doesn’t grow up thinking some fat dude delivering presents is real? But I don’t want him to be THAT WEIRD KID.
So far I’ve decided to do . . . nothing. Next Christmas is a long way away. I’ll think about it then.
I like Easter because I am personally all about the chocolate, and have no shame in eating it despite my non-religious ways. So happy chocolate bunny day to all!
Bahaha, “the bunny who poops chocolate”–now that’s a religious figure I can get behind!
Kristin, we have a delightfully droll “Santa is a story people have told for a long time, about someone who gives to the poor” mention every year so the kids know who Santa is, but don’t expect something from the creepy fat guy. Helps us plug charity, too, in the season of “gimme.”
Amomynous I still don’t get how a rabbit has access to eggs, hides them, then eats the cookies and milk we leave out and poops chocolate, but whatever people need to justify their candy habit is fine by me. I’m just not doing the work in The Name of the Rabbit. Amen.
After several years of way, way far over the top Halloween celebrations at my kids’ school I got to this point with that candy day. Between the costume making, the exhausting class parties and then dragging tired children through city streets after dark I was DONE! Last year I gave myself the night off and didn’t answer the door. That is all it took. I am tolerant once more and will toss chocolate bars into bags in 2012.
Sounds like the party’s at May’s house next October…
I heartily approve of your curmudgeonly 2011, May. I hope you’re experience means I’ll tee up for Easter next year, because the 6yo noticed Easter’s absence and thoroughly disapproved.
Almost as awesome as I am. I woke up at 2:20 this morning and realized that we’d forgotten to hide the eggs and assemble the Easter Baskets (in our defense, there was play-doh in them). So guess what I was doing at 2:30 last night?
I hate the panic of early morning “oh no, is today THAT day?”
Sorry for your late night. Early morning. Buzzkill. Whatever. Hope they appreciated it.
The woman who sits next to me at work is a twenty-something who was born and raised in China. She was grilling me this week about how to properly celebrate Easter for her son, since she had never grown up with such a tradition. She was worried that she would get it wrong. I finally had to say, “Your son is one! One! Do Easter traditionally or non-traditionally, or even don’t do it at all, and your son won’t know the difference!” I appreciate all the work my mother put into the thorough celebrations of holidays as I grew up, but I would’ve still ended up okay if she had slacked off a bit once in a while.
This is a brilliant plan. I must say. Beats waking up before the sun to drag the kids to church, but then I would miss my dad realizing I’m an easy mark, giggling through church, and trying not to a) laugh too loud and b) avoid my mom’s evil look for laughing too loud.