I LOVE traditions. Love, love, love them! There is something comforting and exciting about traditions. The anticipation never decreases even as you do them year after year because they are so special and fun. It is how we build memories in our family.
There’s just one slight issue. I think I LOVE traditions more than the other members of my household. I spend weeks (okay, sometimes months) planning our annual Halloween party, Christmas cookie party, Christmas Gingerbread house party (yes, that’s two separate parties), and Easter Party. I also occasionally throw in a Flag Day party when I’m feeling particularly festive. Okay, that's not true, but I wouldn't put it past me!
So this year as Easter approached, I started thinking about our annual party. I started running a list of people, food, and craft centers. However, this year the planning never led to an event. Life just got busy. Between house projects, volunteering, my moms group, and helping to plan the Easter egg hunt at Luke’s school, I quite honestly burned out. Oh… the mom guilt was intense and I considered throwing something together last minute, but I realized I had to let it go. So I did.
In place of a fun-filled, sugar crazed party, I decided we were going to make the most spectacular dyed eggs this year. I didn’t just get the same old-same old solid colored box of dye this year. Instead, I picked the marbled egg dye. Listen to how glamorous that sounds when you say it…marbled.
Now those of you that know me well, know that I really achieve to be crafty, but for some reason I was not granted that ability. I am the equivalent to Martha Stewart’s half sister. The desire is there, but the talent is not!
Carefully following the directions, I added the tablets, water, lemon juice (to add extra brightness) and vegetable oil (for the marbled effect). This is what they were supposed to look like:
This is what our eggs looked like:
Feeling a bit defeated and determined to get it right, we dumped out the egg dye and started over. By this point, Jack (2) was crying, Charlie (3) was examining the pictures on the refrigerator, and Luke (7) was jumping on the cushions that he removed from the couch. This was not quite what I had in mind when we set out to do our egg dying tradition.
But that’s my life. Those are my kids. We are stuck together. I love them for their craziness and all.
By the way, after adding some vinegar to the second batch, we revived the eggs and they turned out like this:
You have to love traditions…no matter how big or small they are.