Shannon Phillips

“I did it,” I said, leaning my head against Sam’s shoulder. “I made Easter.”

“You sure did,” he said. “You pulled it off by the skin of your teeth, and despite being really sick. When you were trying to get the kids to paint uncooked eggs I thought, Well, she’s really going for it. Good for her.”

I have been sick for the past several days—it started with congestion, sore throat, alternating chills and sweats, general exhaustion and wooziness, but yesterday I developed a full-body skin rash that drove me to finally see a doctor. (He told me it was some kind of virus coupled with some kind of allergic reaction; he wasn’t really able to be more specific, and ultimately there’s nothing that will heal it besides rest and drinking lots of fluids.) Anyway, so I wasn’t very on the ball when it came to Easter prep.

We had eggs, of course, from our chickens—but Henny lays brown eggs and Penny lays pale green ones. They’re not the kind that take dye well:

So when I staggered up this morning, scratched at my rash, hacked up a few gobs of snot, knocked back a cup of coffee and an extra-strength Tylenol, and muttered “oh Christ, it’s Easter,” I didn’t exactly have the miracle of the Resurrection in mind.

But I do think that holidays and ritual are important. I like Easter very much as a celebration of springtime and renewal, life-from-death, the eternal rhythms of the transcendent world. Also I like it as a crafty holiday, and I remember always particularly enjoying it as a kid.

So I stumbled to the kitchen, laid out the eggs we had on hand, scrounged up some paint and paintbrushes, and instructed the kids to have at it. This was the point at which Sam stepped in with a gentle, “Um. Aren’t those supposed to be cooked first?”

So then I picked all the eggs up, hard-boiled them, gave them an ice bath, dried them off, brought them back and helped the kids to paint them while Sam made pancakes. After breakfast I got everybody dressed in nice picture-taking clothes, went out and hid the eggs, and then we had our little romp through the yard. The kids enjoyed it tremendously, dashing back and forth and squealing whenever they spotted a hidden egg, and even Sol seemed to get into the spirit.

Back inside, I was helped tremendously by a batch of candy that Pops and Mo had sent ahead a little bit early. I directed the boys to trade the eggs in their basket for a fistful of chocolates, and as they tore into their bounty I paused for my moment of self-congratulation.

I pulled off Easter. Now it’s time for a nap!