And Mom Guilt Creeps In

I have Easter let down.

Relaxed and uncomplicated is good. But I wonder if ours was a little too laid back. We went Fred Meyer at 4:30 p.m. for toilet paper.

This is not how I pictured my son's first Easter. Not that I had some big eggstravaganza (man, I hate it when publications do that) planned out weeks in advance. It's not like he'll remember.

Maybe a few days ago, though, I was imagining the three of us at mass in the morning. T Junior watching all the people, pointing to the other babos (babies), clapping after the singing stops. Then, we go home and I put the egg and sausage casserole in the oven and T Junior takes a nap.

When he wakes up, he gets his Easter basket. It is filled with all kinds of goodies, like colorful shiny eggs, messy green and yellow plastic grass, and maybe a stuffed duck or bunny.

Maybe we hit an egg hunt earlier in the day somehow, just to let T Junior watch the kids and socialize with our neighbor folks.

But that's not how it went at all.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't bad. It's just that the day wasn't very exciting. Fried rice for Easter dinner anybody?

There was some fun. We spent a lot of the day playing with our son and his toys. He even tried out his legs, attempting to cruise a little. We sang. We danced. We laughed. T Junior tried strawberries. He got a bath.

There were no eggs, fake or dyed, no hunting, no ham, no annoying pastel grass or Peeps or Cadbury cremes. It was just us. In our house. With the constant rain locking us inside.

But.

Isn't that what it should be about? Just being around the ones you love?

I think, yes.

So why do I feel so guilty?