The fun of traditions begin

We've experienced several holidays since Jackson was born. They've all been great and all, but none up until now have really MEANT much to him. Christmas was the closest, but still he could have been just as happy with a box and some tissue paper as with the mega loot he was gifted.

EASTER struck me this year in a way different than ever before. And it was because I began recognizing the incredible responsibility ad reward Scott and I have for creating holiday meaning for our children. I found myself scurrying around like a chicken with her head cut off (morbid use of words, considering the holiday's obsession with chicks, I suppose) the days before Easter weekend, piecing together Jackson's (and Sullivan's) baskets, thinking through whether we would dye eggs on Easter morning, or make it a day-before thing, deciding how to introduce the Easter bunny into the mix (should the basket be from Mommy and Daddy or the easter bunny... or maybe the hidden eggs should be from the Easter bunny and everything else should be about the story of Jesus)... it was so much fun. And in the midst of the fun, I found myself putting pressure on myself to make our family traditions the SPECIAList I could possibly make them. Traditions meant so much to me and my family growing up. And, let's face it, when one looks back on one's coveted memories of childhood, don't the traditions (holiday or not) rise to the surface as the brightest? Not just because of gifts or candy, but because SOMEBODY cared enough to make them special. That somebody is now ME. I'M that somebody.

It was an awesome holiday. And a marker of many more to come.

I LOVE TRADITIONS!