This marks my first Easter with a baby and I have already gotten her an Easter basket and filled it with chocolate bunnies and Reese’s peanut butter eggs. Yes, I know she can’t eat chocolate—what kind of mother do you think I am DON’T ANSWER THAT—so I will be eating all the chocolate for her. I will also be dressing up my pug as Judas Iscariot as he would most certainly betray me for even one morsel of chocolate. And then he might feel a little bad but only once he realizes that I’m the one who feeds him.

Today is Good Friday which basically means you can’t eat meat. Unless you’re not Christian in which case you should eat all the meat you can now because as far as I know they don’t serve steak in hell. Although we usually ate meat and starch every night growing up, Fridays during Lent meant mystery fish dinners. The only seafood I liked as a child was, naturally, shrimp cocktail but apparently that was TOO FANCY for Good Friday, a day that Catholics are supposed to go to confession and pray for the poor souls who have spent thousands of years in purgatory and, let’s be honest, have little chance of ever making it to heaven.

There are two doors to every confessional. One provides a screen between you and the priest so your confession is anonymous and the other is the dreaded “face-to-face” where you can personally witness his, and therefore God’s, utter disappointment in the direction your life is going. One time I mistakenly walked into the face-to-face room and immediately walked out, went around to the screen section, and affected a British accent to mask my identity.

They say confession is good for the soul. I prefer spilling your guts to a bunch of strangers after three too many mimosas. Either way you’re putting it out there. Just don’t confess to anyone that you lie to make people feel better. Then they’ll know that you were lying when you asked them if they’d lost weight. Awkward.

I will be marching in the Easter Parade that I organize every year in my neighborhood although I’m the only one who participates. But this year I can take my baby with me in a stroller and walk along in our matching mother-daughter Lilly Pulitzer outfits and matching bunny ears. I have a feeling one of us will be slightly more adorable but don’t tell her because it’ll make her feel bad.

Tags: catholic, Catholicism, easter   Posted General |