Until that point, mama needs whiskey. Stat.
Our Easter festivities actually started last weekend. Isabella, the hubs, and I attended the Bunny Brunch at my fabulous new health club. They transformed the "daycare area" into a really cute dining area. There was a music lady and a clown there to entertain the kids. And there was a bunny. And Isabella let this bunny hug her. So far, since she's turned three, we're 2 for 2 with close encounters with dressed up characters.
On Friday, we colored eggs. In sleeveless shirts. Because it was 87-freaking-degrees in New York in early April, people.
At some point, I will cease to look like a strung-out heroin addict in photos. Until that point, humor me and tell me I look fabulous if you ever meet me on the street, okay?
This past weekend, I decided to go for broke and take all three kids in for haircuts. Luci was having her first. Her hair, while not technically long, was hanging down to her nose in the front, and mullet-esque in the back.
Initially, I thought she would do better than her brother.
Sweet. A lollypop and Elmo on the tv. What the hell was he bitching so much about?
Wait a minute. No one mentioned water!
I may forgive, but I do not forget. See you at 3am, mother dearest.
Luci's new do.
Then it was back home for naps, and off to an egg hunt at the hubs' father's house.
While Isabella hunted, the twins pillaged her basket from grandma and grandpa.
Then it was time to head home, stick the kids in bed, and get ready for Easter. Here are their chocolate-free baskets. Once again, mommy denied her babies their childhoods by stocking their baskets with toys instead of the sweet stuff. Plenty of treats were to be had at grandma's later that day, so I saw no need.
Isabella did an egg hunt in our house on Easter morning while the twins (miraculously) decided to sleep in. Then, she dug into her basket.
When Nicholas and Luci woke up, it was clear that Nico's little cold had crossed over into Disgusting, Snot-Dripping Territory. He was not happy.
Luci, however, was in the Easter spirit.
Then it was time to get dressed and out the door for mass. Taking 17-month-old high-needs twins to church on Easter Sunday = Epic Fail. Given their less-than-ideal behavior, I wouldn't be surprised to see us physically barred from entering the building in the future.
After that, it was off to brunch at the hubs' aunt's house on one side of the city, home for a quick nap, and then on to dinner at my grandma's on the other side of the city.
This is the best one from my regular Holiday Photo Shoot of Futility.
If you celebrate Easter, I hope it was a good one.