The Easter Bunny really has no redeeming value. Seriously. Nine times out of ten when you see him making the rounds at the mall or at a hotel brunch, he looks dirty. In fact, he reminds me of the stuffed animals that my dogs adore as they drag them in and out of house, through the rain, the snow, and the mud. My pups usually rip the the stuffing out of their babies too and truth be told, unlike Santa Claus, the bunny IS kind of too skinny to be cute.

And the eggs. Why? Do I really need Martha Stewart on Good Morning America sharing with all of us slackers another ‘new’ way to dye eggs. “It’s so easy” she proclaims, as she begins mixing shaving cream with food coloring or pouring paint onto bubble wrap. (She literally said, “just go down to the basement and grab some bubble wrap.” Like seriously, Martha, if I even have bubble wrap, you think I know where it is?!)

But adding insult to injury, Easter is the time of year that forces me to question my children’s wardrobe and yes, Facebook is likely the culprit, though church also gets me feeling a bit like an under-achiever on this front. The truth is, my boys don’t have nice clothes. And by nice, I mean dressy. On the rare occasion that I do buy them a nice pair of khakis, they never seem to actually fit on Easter. Or we can’t find them. Ok, I can’t find them. No one has a pair of dress shoes—it just seems silly to buy shoes that, if I’m lucky, they will wear once. I’m all in on sneakers and cleats, but dress shoes? Not gonna happen. None of them has ever owned a sport coat either, though a few ties have flitted in and out of the mix over the years. My oldest son does have to wear a shirt and tie on the days of home games for his school teams so now, in his mind, those clothes are for game days. Easter Sunday? Not so much.

But this year, I was actually feeling pretty good. My oldest boy, my teenager, did don a button down shirt (sans tie) and my other two wore collared polo shirts because their mom—that’s me—had the forethought to hit the Under Armour outlet during their 40% off sale and buy each of her precious offspring a ‘fancy’ shirt. They wore them for their grandfather’s 75th birthday surprise party and yes, they would wear them for Easter. 

But they are short sleeved. And Easter morning was cold. So while I knew that I had succeeded on the collared shirt front, no one else was going to know because their collars were hidden under sweatshirts. Dammit. 

The youngest of my brood does still a love a good egg hunt so I did make that happen for him. The Easter baskets were their usual standard of pretty lame, but who doesn’t love a chocolate bunny and a plastic egg with a $20 bill inside?!

I will never understand how arguably the most important holiday for Christians, when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, turned into a mangy bunny and colored eggs, but hey, I love everything about Christmas and some people might think that’s kind of weird. So while I’m definitely not a rockstar Easter mom, I did sing loudly enough in church that one of my boys said, “Mom, you’re singing so loudly, everyone is looking at you.” He was exaggerating—it wasn’t everyone—but at least I know that I feel the true spirit of Easter even though I kind of have just a slight urge to punch the Easter Bunny. And Martha Stewart.