Robbin Carollo |

What happened when mom tried making Easter memories | Moms

One of the great things about motherhood is that it allows me the opportunity to carry on traditions from my childhood with my kids.

I really get to thinking about this around holidays, like Easter.

I have such fond memories of Easter from when I was growing up.

Every year, my sisters and I would get a new Easter outfit and since we grew up in the 80’s and 90’s, these were normally super gaudy, pastel, floral printed dresses with white Easter hats and matching white frilly socks.

Our big hair matched our big, poofy dresses and before church we’d stand in the parking lot, trying to see whose dress would do the better twirl.

After church, which for us girls really amounted to 60 minutes spent in Sunday school hearing the story of our Lord’s resurrection punctuated by fruit punch Kool Aid and animal crackers, we’d head over to my granny’s for Easter lunch and Easter egg hunt.

After a buffet style lunch where the ham and banana pudding held the places of honor, we kids would gather round and wait for one of the grown-ups to announce the start of the hunt.

Twisting the toes of our white patent leather Mary Janes in the grass and our hands clutching the long-handles of our Easter baskets, at the word “go,” we’d set off through the backyard trying to spot brightly colored hard-boiled eggs.

For me, those dyed eggs are as much of a part, or even more so, of Easter Sunday than the ham or the new dress.

I think the fact that they have to be prepared in advanced and are something that the family can do together makes them more special for me.

They are definitely a tradition I want to carry on with my own kids.

I just like them so much more than the standard, cheap plastic eggs you see now.

I mean, do I really need another excuse to fill my kid’s gullet with the obligatory candy stuffing those things come with?

If it were up to me, I’d go back to hard boiling eggs and making my kids seek those out. Maybe finish off Easter Sunday with a platter of rainbow hued deviled eggs or something.

With that in mind I decided that this year, the girls and I were going to dye eggs.

Have you ever dyed Easter eggs as an adult? I hadn’t so when I decided I was going to do it this year, I figured it would be a lot like I remember it from when I was little.

Oh, no.

Last weekend I went to the store to get my supplies. Dye? Check. Vinegar? Check. Eggs? Double check.

Then I got to thinking about how I was going to go about dying the eggs and realized I needed cups for the individual colors, the wire scoops that hold the eggs while they’re being dipped, a plastic table cover and, because I’d be doing it with a one and two year old, a drop cloth for my floor.

Turns out there is a lot of effort put into those bad boys.

So, in the middle of Fred Meyer I gave up on my dreams of dying eggs with my girls and grabbed three 12-coiunt bags of cheap plastic eggs and a 54 ounce bag of Skittles.

I’ll try for memory-making next year.

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The News-Review Updated Apr 23, 2014 08:18AM Published Apr 24, 2014 06:54AM Copyright 2014 The News-Review. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.