Growing up as a child, I LOVED the holidays. Easter meant dinner at my Bama and Poppop's house..usually with a sleepover the night before, time with my cousins, Easter baskets with cheap candy (there were 6 grandchildren after all), a new pair of PJ's and a day with the entire family. Bama would make a big pot of mashed turnips that would usually go back in the fridge with just a few spoons dished out of it (really, who like turnips?).
However since my grandparents are gone, my Easter (and Thanksgivings and Christmases) are far different than the ones in my childhood. My husband's sister never had any children and passed away a few Easters ago, my in laws aren't really into the holidays, the cousins I was once close to have families of their own, my brothers are too young to have children and my sister, well we aren't close...at all. Add into the pot that I haven't spoke to my father since October and it makes a sad holiday.
In order to try to recreate for my children what I had as a child, I ventured to SI to see my mom this weekend. Had I known it would end the way it did, I would have never have gone. I learned that I can't recreate for my kids what I had as a child. That was my life, this is my children's and my mother is not my grandmother. Don't get me wrong, my mom had a egg hunt for the kids and Easter baskets and a very good meal, but she doesn't have the patience my Bama had, nor do I. Three kids, ages 4,5, and 6 are too much of a challenge for me to handle in a house that isn't mine. My sister and I have too many differences to do more than pretend to be nice to each other.
So I sit here, depressed that another holiday has gone by without my grandmother, fighting with my husband who can't possiably understand how much I wanted my childhood Easters for my children, feeling as if I failed my kids buy being crabby and yelling all weekend.
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