This Easter was a landmark celebration for our family. For the first time since having children, Rob and I were able to sit down during Mass. In an actual pew, not on the floor at the back of the church. There was a fair amount of popping up and down for drinks of water and restroom requests, and Sage’s attention towards the alter has noticeably diminished since realizing that it wasn’t real Jesus on a cross suspended from the ceiling, but rather fake Jesus. Which is all very cute and endearing, but I’m somewhat troubled by the fact that I’m nurturing the little mind that actually thought some guy was allowing himself to be draped in a sheet and attached to a wooden cross every Sunday and on holy days. That’s a stinker of a long term job description.
After Mass we had some time to kill before our brunch reservations, so we decided to find a pretty bluebonnet field and take a few shots of the girls in their Easter outfits. It all sounds easy enough, but trying to crop out the shopping center on our left and the other three families on our right was an exercise in patience. In the end I was able to get some nice photos of them, as were the other three families. Years from now they will be scratching their heads and asking each other who is that slightly maniacal-looking red headed imp in the far distance of their Easter 2010 family portrait. As Ashton whizzed by, I noticed with some dread that the insides on her ankles were brown – and then heard Sage wail that the mud took her shoe. We spent the rest of our free time using a fortuitously placed 75-count container of Clorox wipes to clean our shoes, the girls’ shoes and feet, and all of Ashton’s legs. I swear that child goes feral the minute she sets foot on actual grass. She managed to get filthy right under our eyes, and we had no idea how bad it was until she was standing on concrete, grinning from ear to ear and channeling her inner Tom Sawyer.
We arrived at Bravo just in time, and just before the crowds – relatively clean and lemony fresh. Brunch was divine, probably more so for Rob who used as much of the tab to order alcohol as we did food. To be fair, it was mixed with orange juice, so we know he’s set for his monthly allotment of vitamin C. We toodled around the mall (excuse me, upscale assortment of outdoor shops) after eating and eventually found ourselves outside the still-closed Apple store. What greeted us was so cliché that I kept looking for a camera crew. Five people were all standing before the store, four of them not chatting or even taking in their surroundings, but rather frantically tapping and scrolling on their iPhones. The fifth was some poor bored teen stuck between his parents who were ignoring him and each other as they frantically kept their fingers on the pulse of the information age. Chiropractors must be making a fortune on treating the neck aches caused by all that looking down with hunched shoulders. I thought they were dead to the real world until Rob pointed out the new iPad and I dismissively shrugged. At that very moment, four heads must have snapped up in unison because I felt a Jobsian glare of distrust and derision bore into the back of my head. I’m so glad I was able to unite their little group on a nice Sunday morning.
When we got home, a still suspiciously cheery Rob went into the backyard to hide the plastic eggs, and in an ill-conceived moment of Easter insanity, I tossed the dyed eggs into the mix as well. The grass was wet, their tops were white – and another Clorox product saved the day. Thank you, bleach pen.
Teetering between exhaustion and delirium, we plunked the girls down in front of The Princess and the Frog and plunked ourselves down on the couches for a well deserved nap.
Success.
After Mass we had some time to kill before our brunch reservations, so we decided to find a pretty bluebonnet field and take a few shots of the girls in their Easter outfits. It all sounds easy enough, but trying to crop out the shopping center on our left and the other three families on our right was an exercise in patience. In the end I was able to get some nice photos of them, as were the other three families. Years from now they will be scratching their heads and asking each other who is that slightly maniacal-looking red headed imp in the far distance of their Easter 2010 family portrait. As Ashton whizzed by, I noticed with some dread that the insides on her ankles were brown – and then heard Sage wail that the mud took her shoe. We spent the rest of our free time using a fortuitously placed 75-count container of Clorox wipes to clean our shoes, the girls’ shoes and feet, and all of Ashton’s legs. I swear that child goes feral the minute she sets foot on actual grass. She managed to get filthy right under our eyes, and we had no idea how bad it was until she was standing on concrete, grinning from ear to ear and channeling her inner Tom Sawyer.
We arrived at Bravo just in time, and just before the crowds – relatively clean and lemony fresh. Brunch was divine, probably more so for Rob who used as much of the tab to order alcohol as we did food. To be fair, it was mixed with orange juice, so we know he’s set for his monthly allotment of vitamin C. We toodled around the mall (excuse me, upscale assortment of outdoor shops) after eating and eventually found ourselves outside the still-closed Apple store. What greeted us was so cliché that I kept looking for a camera crew. Five people were all standing before the store, four of them not chatting or even taking in their surroundings, but rather frantically tapping and scrolling on their iPhones. The fifth was some poor bored teen stuck between his parents who were ignoring him and each other as they frantically kept their fingers on the pulse of the information age. Chiropractors must be making a fortune on treating the neck aches caused by all that looking down with hunched shoulders. I thought they were dead to the real world until Rob pointed out the new iPad and I dismissively shrugged. At that very moment, four heads must have snapped up in unison because I felt a Jobsian glare of distrust and derision bore into the back of my head. I’m so glad I was able to unite their little group on a nice Sunday morning.
When we got home, a still suspiciously cheery Rob went into the backyard to hide the plastic eggs, and in an ill-conceived moment of Easter insanity, I tossed the dyed eggs into the mix as well. The grass was wet, their tops were white – and another Clorox product saved the day. Thank you, bleach pen.
Teetering between exhaustion and delirium, we plunked the girls down in front of The Princess and the Frog and plunked ourselves down on the couches for a well deserved nap.
Success.
