Apr 092012


When Henry and I were out doing legwork for the Easter bunny Saturday night, Henry mentioned that he wasn’t sure if we still had Chooch’s regular basket, which is this large, heavy basket that is entirely too bulky to be used to hold Easter bounty, but I bought it for Chooch’s first Easter, when he was still an angel and deserved these things. Nowadays, the thought of putting a jelly bean in a thimble isn’t far from my mind.

Anyway, Henry bought this small “just in case” basket at Target, but we ended up finding the traditional basket later that night.

Both baskets were sitting on the table over night, because I was too tired from a late evening of watching scary Islamic men on public access rant about how caucasians are always trying to take credit for the invention of every language in the history of the universe.

“Chooch never wakes up before me,” I reasoned, remembering two Christmases ago when I could not for the life of me get the little slug to wake up and was left to amuse myself all morning with some Prince video marathon on VH1 Soul. “I’ll hide it in the morning,” I told Henry, who shrugged and followed me upstairs to bed.

[Side note: before Chooch went to bed Saturday night, he and I were sitting on the couch and the front door was open. “Oh shit, I see him across the street,” Chooch said all calmly. When I asked him who he saw, he said, “Jesus” and I FELT SO SCARED.]

And of course, Chocoh woke up at 8:30. We were awake, but still in bed, so I had to call him into our room to stall him from going downstairs.

“Cuddle with us!” I blurted out, which is totally not something we tend to do together. He looked confused, but climbed into bed. Then I said I had to pee, but really I flew downstairs with him hot on my heels. I made it down there in enough time to grab the basket, dump it between the couch and chair and toss a blanket over top.

The first thing Chooch saw when he reached the bottom of the steps was the back-up basket, sitting on the table, completely empty.

He looked at it in horror and then we locked eyes.

“THE EASTER BUNNY HAAAAAATES ME!” he wailed, face turning red and eyes starting to well.

I was about to assure him that there was another basket, but I stopped myself. “Let this play out for a few more seconds, Erin,” the Devil on my shoulder pressed. He’s such a permanent fixture, he’s practically just a large mole at this point.

If there is one thing I love in life, it is pranking people, ESPECIALLY my kid. But this wasn’t even intentional, which made it that much more perfect.

After a few seconds though, he realized that this was probably Case #789696 of Mommy being a dickhead, and continued his search for the real basket. But my god, I couldn’t stop laughing. That’s what he gets for scaring me with that Jesus shit.


Henry and I used to divvy the candy up into plastic eggs, but now we just toss entire bags of it into his basket. We are so traditional.



“Holy shit, the Easter Bunny brought me a SKYLANDER?!”

The kid loves his damn Skylanders, whatever the fuck those are.


We were about to leave to go visit Speck’s grave, when Henry got all hush-hush and held up his arm.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, staring at the front door. “Your aunt’s out there.”

But of course she didn’t knock. She just dumped an Easter basket on the porch for Chooch. Inside, there was a card from her and Val (aka my “mom”), which said a bunch of lies about how much they love him.

“They sure have a funny way of showing it,” Henry mumbled. I wish that they would just not do anything. I’d rather have a real relationship, not just “stuff.” But that’s always been the easy way out for them.

So not only did I have major Speck-sadness (first Easter in forever that she wasn’t attacking the basket and pillaging for Easter grass), but then I had the typical “Ugh, it’s a holiday and I have no family*” nervous breakdown.

(*Yes, I have Henry and Chooch, but that is a family that I had to make on my own. Sometimes I wish I had teh normal mom/dad/siblings/grandparents set-up that so many other people could to enjoy and often take for granted. Living like this might keep the drama out of my life, but it is not always amazing.



Totally emotional at the pet cemetery. The assholes there completely lost the temporary marker on Speck’s grave, so we had to guess where to leave the flowers. I’m so angry about this and can’t wait until it’s been a year so I can finally buy a real bronze marker for her. Total bullshit. Chooch was so upset that he ran away from us and laid down on the grass alone. It was completely heartbreaking to watch. Then I started sobbing and Henry had to stand there, hugging me/holding me up. We’re not even close to being healed, clearly.




Luckily, we had moustaches to play with when we got home, so the afternoon wasn’t as somber as the late morning was.



And then Henry drew this on the sidewalk, which made Chooch’s head explode. I was in the house but I could hear him outside, frantically trying to get the neighbors to look.

But since I don’t have concrete proof that Henry himself actually wrote this, no one will believe me. You can all pretend it says “I love meringue” which actually isn’t a far stretch considering we had an argument about that Friday night after he went to Giant Eagle and bought a coconut cream pie to fulfill my (non-pregnant!!!) cravings, only to buy one capped with MERINGUE knowing that I HATE MERINGUE OH MY GOD.


Good thing we bought a real coconut cream pie the next night at Bob Evans.

God, what a fucking emotional start to the day.

  6 Responses to “Easter: The Emotional First Half”

  1. Sorry to have been so disconnected from my friends while I have been dealing with my depression. I was sorry to learn about Speck.



  2. Only you could crack me up and tear my heart out all in one post.

    That was really romantic of Henry. ;)

  3. i’m so sorry that you are hurting….

    and i’m so tickled that Henry drew on the sidewalk for you…. that big ol softy :)

  4. I hate meringue too! I scrape that shit off.

    What Henry wrote was sweet. No one’s even made me an I LOVE DANIELLE sidewalk chalk ode. You should feel loved!

    I understand what you mean about the difference between having a chosen family and having your “natural” family. Even if they’re fooked up, it’s still a loss to not have them in your life. And there’s a particular sadness when you have a child who isn’t surrounded by a horde of doting grandparents, uncles, aunts, great-aunts, etc. Because it’s not the kid’s fault that the adults are all screwed up. :(

    Wishing you peace and long moments of pure joy. <3

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