“Did you dye eggs with Fiona?” I was asked today. My heart lurched.
We’re approaching Fiona’s second Easter, and I’m once again facing the question of what traditions to partake in. I love traditions. Really love them. So it’s hard for me to step back and acknowledge that I can’t do everything with Fiona.
But I can’t. I’m a working mom. I commute for over 2 hours every day. I just can’t do it all. I need to be okay with that.
“No,” I replied hesitantly. Was I letting my daughter down by not giving her this special activity? “I have limited time. I had to choose what to do.”
I think that maybe someday I won’t have limited time. Maybe someday I won’t be working full time and commuting so far. Maybe someday life will be slower, simpler.
But it won’t. I know that.
We took Fiona to her first Easter egg hunt. We’re going to recreate another one at home. She loves those little plastic eggs to pieces (literally). I put together a simple Easter basket for her, just a book and a few wooden eggs. She’s going to love it. We’ll dress her up all fancy, but we’ll use a dress we already have. We’ll take pictures, and it’ll be adorable.
But we won’t dye eggs. Maybe next year. And we won’t make hot cross buns, that will have to wait for another time. She won’t get a corsage like I did as a child every Easter morning, because that’s just not our style. She won’t attend a sunrise service at church, because they’re hard to find these days.
Her Easter memories will be different than mine, but that’s okay. Special can mean something different for every family. In fact, it can mean something different every year. And that’s okay.