Sprite's Keeper

Since when did the Easter Bunny take to shopping at Toys R Us?

Please forgive me. I'm about to bash Easter. Kindly, though! Please do not light your torches until after the comments section has been opened. (That is, if I feel brave enough to open the comments section..) And remember, this is a non-smoking blog. Thanks.

Considering Easters past, I can recall Sundays of little girls and boys in their Sunday best, collecting Easter eggs from hidden spots where the hollow ovals would be opened to reveal either candy, a coin, or if they were lucky (or had rich parents), even a dollar. Sometimes, they got a bum egg and they accepted it anyway. (Unless they had rich parents or were spoiled. Or both.)

The Easter baskets would be filled with Cadbury eggs, jelly beans, and maybe a little stuffed bunny or chick or whatever animal was prone to repeated reproduction and left for the kiddies to find.

Now, of course, being the one Jewish family on the block, we did not participate in the Easter finery, or get our yearly picture taken with the Easter Bunny, but Lee and I still received a small consolation basket from my mother, who was determined to make sure we would not be completely left out from the merriment. (And she had a yen for jelly beans.) (Yes, you did, Mom. Caught you a couple of times..) Sure, we were allowed to play along when the school ran it's huge egg hunt and had a ton of fun with that, but Easter for us usually meant that our friends would most likely not be able to play that day.

As we grew, Mom stopped buying into the entire candy routine. I believe her reasoning was, "You get an allowance. Buy your own damn candy!" or something to that extent. (My teen years are a little fuzzy..) (Okay, maybe I'll close down the comments section to just my mom... Can I DO that?)

Now, being a parent myself and being married to a Catholic man, I get to join the legions of parents trying to prove to their kids that the Easter Bunny does exist, although Sprite didn't look too convinced when she saw him at the mall on Saturday.

When Sprite was old enough to walk and grab at the brightly colored plastic eggs, we brought her to the city's celebration where we stuck to the outskirts of the enormous crowd and let Sprite mosey around in her own little area and pick up what she pleased. We didn't entertain the thought of making her an Easter basket, because, Dude, she was hardly 18 months old, she wouldn't appreciate the chocolates like we would so why shell out the money? I never looked into it.

This year, it was a different story. I knew we would be making a day trip to Nana and Papa's house, so I started eying the pre-made baskets that the grocery chains had to offer. And tripped over my own sputtering. Toys? And not just little stuffed animal toys. Big toys. Regulation basketballs. Barbie dolls. Little-est Pet Shop dolls. (I really hope Sprite completely sails past that particular trend. I don't think my vacuum could survive that many little parts.) I saw baskets playing up to the sports minded, the princess minded, the farm animal minded, the video game minded, the CRAWLING minded. If you have a kid who fits into any genre, I'm sure there's a basket out there for you. These baskets were overflowing with offerings, mostly plastic, and of course, the candy was represented. (Yo yo, and a Yum.)

Some of the baskets retailed for $9.99, although their content would suggest you're getting it for a steal. Some of the baskets went all the way for a cool fifty, with two Nintendo DS games nestled in the fake grass, right next to the M&M's. Intimidated, I backed away from the baskets and re-thought my strategy. We're raising this kid Jewish for goodness sake. Let her have her egg hunts at the day care, some candy at Nana's, and don't play into this hype. It's not her birthday, it's not Christmas, It's not Hanukkah, Hell, it's not even Arbor Day, let it ride! She's two, she won't even notice.

Sunday morning, we dressed her nicely, (Of course, I would acknowledge the Easter finery, plus her photographer uncle would be there, so I was hoping to snag some pictures from him. Um, Ryan? Does this count as a request?) (I know. I'm so bad.) (Please, Ryan?) and delivered her to her grandparents' door to have some fun with her aunts, uncles, and cousins. As soon as we entered though,

Hi, Easter baskets!

And to top it off, the very object of her affections, a Sleeping Beauty Barbie doll was sitting high and regal above the other prizes and candies. And not to give all the attention to Sprite, her baby cousins collected some nice loot too.

So, where is this post going? Good question. I could throw a couple more cute photos at you to deter you from trying to gain a point from this blathering on, but I actually have a question. (Or two.)

When did Easter succumb to the excess? When did gifts (and I don't mean the candy) become the norm? When did people start treating this religious holiday as an excuse to buy presents? Sure, egg hunts are a great way to get kids involved and the Easter Bunny is the biggest mascot I can think of other than Santa Claus (or the Cleveland Indians) (Sorry, but that mascot immediately comes to mind.), but buying plastic toys to fill the basket? Doesn't that take away from the holiday when you have kids clamoring over each other to "open!" their toys while you're trying to have Easter dinner or partake in Mass? Can't people just buy smaller baskets and keep it to only candy?

Or is that it? The competition of the baskets... Yeah, I can see it. The kid with the bigger basket won. So, everyone started getting larger baskets. Then it became a problem of filling the baskets with just candy, so they turned to toys...  and the snowball picked up speed. (Can I blame this on Mattel? From the abundance of Barbie dolls decorating the baskets, I have to think they had a hand in this.)

Easter, to me at least, has always represented a celebration of family, a celebration of church, a celebration of the very thing that makes Christians believers. Now, again, since I am Jewish, I am in no way slamming the faith at all. I respect it very deeply. And while I appreciate the fun aspects of celebrating Easter, I just can't get my mind around the burgeoning Easter baskets or the excuses we parents use to heap more excess upon the kids who would most likely be just as happy to get a Peep as they would to get a Wii. (Of course, this would be dependent on the child not knowing they had the choice of a Peep or a Wii. Because if the child knew they had the choice, I would seriously doubt the child would even acknowledge the Peep.) (Unless that child was Sprite. Bright colors? She's all over that. And marshmallow? Score.)

Unfortunately for Sprite, (Or fortunately. She probably won't cast an opinion for another year at least.) John and I are not joining the basket barrage and her only prize will be what she collects in a plastic egg or gets from the grandparents. (Since we have no control over how they spoil their grand-kids.) (Yes, I know we have some control, but come on! I'm denying her the coolest thing! If they wanna slip in some spoilage, let them.) (I know that thought will come back to haunt me..) We're going to celebrate the way we remember it, and toys are not the way we remember it.

Ooh, look! a cute picture! Just look at it for a few minutes and all will be right in the world...

 

(The three "princesses" of the family. Sprite, Alyssa-9 months, and Daniela-4 months, or as I spent Sunday calling them, "Small, Medium, and Large".)

(Are we good?)

(Phew!)

Whaddya mean I hafta write a Christmas poem?!

Twas the night before Thursday, a Wednesday, it's true,

Or the day after Tuesday, if that's important to you.

Christmas was coming, mere hours away,

And cookies were baking, just don't tell HASAY.

The stockings were placed on a table with care,

No fireplace to hang them (we have central air).

John was trying his best to settle down Sprite,

Who thought nothing of sleep on this Christmas Eve night.

She would not sit still for a cartoon named Grinch,

Not even the Movers, which works in a pinch.

She kept moving about, high on holiday sweets,

Indulged by her parents with forbidden treats.

Calls of caution were ignored, she just wouldn't hear it,

Not when she was trying to capture the holiday spirit!

To ride on a reindeer, she tried to mount Blue,

And when that didn't work, she approached Harry too.

She kept calling "Santa!", running for the front door,

Stirring up tinsel that littered the floor.

Jen worked the kitchen, the oven glow bright,

And the smell of a promise permeated the night.

For this night would be special, this tradition was new,

While it was Sprite's first Christmas, it would be Jen's too.

And although this may seem just a little bit trite,

You could even say Jen was more exited than Sprite.

She wanted to start decorating the house,

And to do that, she needed the help of her spouse.

John sat down with Sprite for a classic Christmas book,

And miracle of miracle, that was all it took!

While Jen fiddled with a post on Sprite's Keeper,

John looked down to discover he now had a sleeper.

He then tucked in his sweet dreaming Sprite,

And settled her down (finally!) for her silent night.

With Sprite now quiet, they set down to work,

Without having to worry about where Sprite may lurk.

Jen started building, even though she was tired,

Sprite's "Santa's gift" (some assembly required).

While John placed presents neatly under the tree,

And picked a spot to place Santa's gift, for Sprite's discovery.

John then cleaned up the preparation aftermath,

And Jen wearily retreated for a long (and overdue) bubble bath.

Finally, they stopped, allowing exhaustion to seep in,

And begged for one last Christmas wish, that Sprite would please sleep in.

We wish a happy holidays from us to all of you,

And to share in our holiday wish, that your kids oversleep too!

Tampering With Tradition

Christmas is four days away. Hanukkah begins tonight and lasts for eight sunsets. (Hold the phones! Little Facebook friends all spamming each other with Hanukkah wishes convinced me that Hanukkah actually began LAST NIGHT! It is Hanukkah NOW! Me, a Jew, didn't even realize my own freakin' holiday had started! OY! I'm gonna be pretty busy come Yom Kippur...)

This is our first year to combine the two events and make it magical for a two year old.

We have nothing. (!)

When Sprite was first born, we spent our holidays on the East side of Florida with John's family and mine since we were more interested in being with everyone we loved and she really didn't have a say in the matter. We made these plans knowing that the time would come when she was old enough to start participating in Santa's game of setting out cookies for the fat man (he'd better be good to her or next year, he's getting sugar free) and waking up Christmas morning to a mountain of presents (okay, maybe not a mountain, a really tall hill, okay, maybe not a really tall hill, but a definite speed bump of gifts) and playing with Mommy and Daddy all morning as relatives call and come at various hours to join in the festivities and wrap it all up into a warm holiday memory with a big red bow on it. We set this time frame for Sprite's second birthday and then went about life, completely forgetting about it.

The time has come. (..the walrus said) (Quick, what famous animated movie is that line from?)

Sprite is now two. John and I made the announcement to our East Coast families that we will be parking it at home this year and were met with moans and groans and "Do it next year!", but we're digging our heels and staying true to our cause. (We've only wavered twice in our decision, but we're still staying, right, John? ...John?)

Living in a blended faith family, Sprite will of course spin the dreidel as she should and watch as we "light" the candles on the Mickey Mouse menorah her mother so lovingly locked away so curious size 3T hands couldn't get their grubby paws on "Mickey! Sprite's Mickey! Gimme!!!!!" stored for her daughter to enjoy for many years to come. (When I air quote the word light, I mean it. We will pretend to light the wick for most of the nights. Do you know what a bitch it is to clean wax out of a menorah branch?)

I had envisioned making latkes for my toddler to enjoy with some applesauce, but dude, I'm tired. I barely had time to make some cookies for my office's potluck tomorrow. Putting a half-witted stressed out woman in front of a hot skillet spitting oil is not what I picture as a fond holiday memory. So, latkes? Later.

If we find the tree remote, we will light the tree, and I did get "The Night Before Christmas" on clearance last year so John will probably read that to Sprite before bedtime.

But our holiday is still missing something, tradition. This is our first year of doing it our way and we have no ideas!

I asked John about his family memories and they include opening presents on Christmas Eve (Okay, I have to ask. Why do some families open their gifts on Christmas Eve? My memories as an outsider always included the kids having to be hog-tied to their beds so the Claus-man could sneak down their chimney, raid their fridge, and leave a few trinkets after Midnight so the little buggers fresh faced innocents could rush the tree the next morning and see what Kris Kringle left within the tree's undercarriage.

We're looking for something, anything to help ring in Christmas and give our kid a nice holiday and a happy (if somewhat foggy) memory.

Question number one: What traditions does your family do? What do you have to include every year or it's just not Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Kwanzaa/ Festivus without it?

Question number two: Do you mind if we steal your tradition?

Save us from Holiday Hell!

Atonement

Oy.

I screwed up.

Big time.

Today is Yom Kippur. Well, technically, it started last night, but let's not dwell..

For those not in the know, Yom Kippur is the Jewish day of atonement. To really simplify it, you know the Confessional where you go to confess your sins with the priest and then have to do a penance like some Hail Mary's and such, and then you're free to go until you step in sin again? Yeah, it's like that, only we Jews combine all the confessions into one day out of the year where you apologize for every wrong you've committed in the past 365 days. (This is where having a blog helps, but we'll get to that.) Oh, and you have a choice. You can choose to go to the Synagogue and pray there, or you can stay home and pray there. (I choose home. It's free.) And you don't need a mediator. You talk directly to the Big Guy, cutting out the middle man. Call us efficient.

You also can't eat from sundown to sundown. Yup, 24 hours. It's just you and the All Mighty. And silence. Lots of silence. (Sorry for being sacreligious, but I never understood the no food part. It was like someone looked at Yom Kippur and said, "You know what? It's too simple! They confess and they're done! There's no groveling, no begging. Give them a challenge! Take away their brisket!") You start off the day feeling remorseful and full of inflection and end it like an episode of Survivor, wondering if sundown can't come soon enough or if eating a cotton ball, while technically not food, will at least fill you up somewhat until you can nuke the crap out of some leftovers. (By sundown, EVERYTHING looks good. If you know what's good for you, you would have cleaned the fridge out a couple of days before or the 2 week old meatloaf which should have been thrown out over a week ago, JOHN!, may get mistaken for something edible.)

Now, of course, children are exempt from this practice until they're technically old enough to understand sin and how smacking your brother in the head even when told not to is still considered mean and you should in fact seek forgiveness for your actions. (In fact, it's considered the 11th Commandment. "Thou shalt not smack thy brother in the head.") So, the kiddies go on about their day, playing quietly and eating while Mom and Dad reflect about life for them.

Now, while atoning for all your sins, you also reflect on the good things in your life. I like to reflect on my husband, daughter, family, and all the love I have surrounding me. This year, I get to add all of you to the mix. I don't think you guys (mostly girls, but you know what I mean) really know just how much enrichment you've added to my life.

So, once the day is over, you can eat and begin your new year with a clean slate. Not too awful, right?

Now, here's where I screwed up.

I'm supposed to be at home, fasting, praying, and atoning for all the nasty things I've done over the year. Since this blog was started back in January, luckily, I have a timeline chart I can reference for the most part when apologizing. (And pie graphs in case I'm really up the creek.)

BUT..

..life being what it is, and me not looking at a calendar like a good little girl made me realize YESTERDAY that Yom Kippur was at my door and knocking hard. (Facebook had no problem spamming everyone about my birthday when I wanted to keep it quiet, yet can't throw a bone to the Jews in the house that, Oh, yeah! Yom Kippur is coming up soon. Better stuff your cheeks now!) So, yes, this means I am at work, which doesn't help me atone for much since I need to be paying attention to my JOB. I did try for a last minute reprieve, but got cold feet since I would look pretty stupid asking for a last minute religious holiday, either looking like a holiday haggler or an ignorant schmuck. (I do believe it's possible to be both.)

I am not eating today, although I did bring food as my body tends to go all hypoglycemic on my ass if I let the stomach go too long without fuel. (Yes, people with medical issues are considered special cases when it comes to fasting and therefore exempt.) So there's that, but I am still half-assing it so I will atone for this as well. (Related tangent, if I am snarking at religion and making fun of something semi-serious now, will I look bad in Someone's eyes if you are are reading this today when I actually wrote it yesterday even though it was published this morning? Will the words I wrote then that you're reading now come back to haunt me now even though the thoughts were thought then or does the fact that you're reading the thoughts I thought then now negate the fact that I thought them then since in your mind, as you're reading it now, I'm thinking it now?) (You may need to read that again. Go ahead, I'll wait.) (Yeah, I'll ask for forgiveness for the tangent too.)

So, today being what it is, and me trying to not be the smitten kitten (Yeah, I know the correct wordage is smote, but smitten is cuter and works.) (Fine, I'll add it to the list.), I am not going to be on this site at all today. I know. This hurts me too. Sprite's Keeper and my Blog Roll Buddies (SHOUT OUT!) have become my constant companions throughout my day and have warmed my thoughts when life got a little too harsh and I haven't been away from here once since the beginning of it all.

But I need to do this. In order to show Sprite that I can be an upstanding person whether in faith or in outright disregard for it, I need to practice what I preach.

I won't be able to update any Spin Cycle entries today, but trust me, I'll be on as soon as the sun begins to dip in the sky this evening signaling the end of Yom Kippur and catch up on everything including what's going on in your life. I also won't be able to spread the comment love on other people's sites, but tonight, I'm SO THERE. So, send your Spins in as usual and trust that they will be added to the round up tonight as soon as I gain access to my Comments page and to the post tomorrow.

For all my Jewish friends, L'Shana Tovah and may your next year be more full of apples and honey than vinegar.

For all my non-Jewish friends, have a happy Thursday and know that I appreciate every one of you and will be adding an extra comment in my prayers for how blessed you have all made me feel.

See you tomorrow on the Spin Cycle!

Blaming this one on Susan

My best friend sent me this link this morning.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24357277/from/ET/

I usually don't write about religion unless in a passing way. This article in no way represents me or my faith (or faiths) or my beliefs about parenting.

I'm just shocked by the story and merely passing it on.

I'm sparing you my personal opinions and comments, because Sprite will someday read this and I would like her to learn them fancy curse words from me directly.

I'm thinking this article is payback from Susan for putting that song "I hear the secrets that you keep" in her head all day Tuesday.

We're even now.