Apple bread totally counts for extra credit, right?
Not wrong just SO SO different


Of course it was the night before Easter, and Tre got out his shirt to iron it. He did a beautiful job, too. But then he put it on, and the sleeves ended a good two inches before his wrists. I swear, his closet shrinks clothes. That shirt fit him beautifully at Christmas. Weird.

So since it was the night before Easter, we headed out to find him a shirt that fits. And since he's a newly permitted driver, I let him drive.

He's doing well at the driving thing. But my responsible, careful, cautious firstborn son? Has something of a lead foot.

"Speed. Watch your speed. WATCH your SPEED," I kept squeeking, each successive word getting tighter and higher pitched. Thankfully, everyone survived. I have started wondering if it's truly necessary for EVERYONE to drive, though. Shouldn't we examine these assumptions? Hmm? Just throwing that thought out there.

But we got the shirt, and we got home safely. We got all the new shirts washed (Raphael's closet shrunk his Christmas shirt too. Maybe it's a basement issue?) and pressed (although Max didn't need to iron a shirt, because Tre's had actually shrunk enough to fit him. haha! funny). The baskets got assembled and hidden. The kitchen was a mess. Life, you know?

The next morning we fumbled our way through the baskets and breakfast. Ties were tied and retied and retied and fussed at and finally tied right. There was a missing shoe crisis that required Clay's intervention. Eventually we were all passably dressed (Clay was extremely hot. Just saying), and had a few minutes for pictures.

Colorado likes to show us who's boss sometimes, and this was one of those times. Easter fell just about as late in the year as possible, so Colorado had to muscle in on the springlike weather and give us a gray, damp, freezing Easter morning. So we took pictures on the couch, in the bad light of the living room, called it good enough, and were on our way to church.

I have to confess that sometimes I feel like I'm still such an amateur at this life. It seems like I should be better at all of it, the planning, the organizing, the picture taking. I shouldn't have to run to Kohl's every night before a big event. I wish I had pictures that show the kids the way I see them, instead of the stiff lineup on the couch.

But of course, then we were at church. Tre was acolyting today, and he wanted to know if he had to wear the alb (robe). He hates his alb, because it's way too short (weird. It wasn't even in his closet. The problem is clearly spreading). And he figured that since he looked so sharp, maybe he should just...skip it?

"Well, yeah, you wear the alb. We're not here to look good, we're here, and looking good, in honor of what we're celebrating today."

As I said it, I remembered it. I am scattered and tired and constantly surprised by the fact that my kids are growing (and driving). My house is a mess, my work isn't done for class tomorrow, and I'm still carrying more baby weight than I like to admit - even to myself.

But to gather together the best of my imperfect life, to strive to be the best we are capable of, and to present the whole mess to a Love that matters more than any of it, well.

That's the whole point of Easter.

Easter11 015 



sniff, sniff. Life happens so fast, and then they are grown. THanks for the reminder.






And they are beautiful!


SCORE!!! Four kids dressed (extra points for the matching ties) and on the couch for a photo and you ALL made it to church? That's a WIN in my book.


My brain stopped working after "and Tre got out his shirt to iron it"....
wow. just wow. I'm not sure anyone in my household irons anymore, never mind my son!

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