With all the encouragement we have been getting to celebrate Easter in a big way – to buy new clothes and dress up, make gorgeous meals, and fun activities for the kids, it occurs to me that something has been left out.
We are now officially into Easter weekend, and the time to shop for new clothes and lose weight has run out. Many of you are also recently post-partum and there is really nothing that compares to trying to dress up a body that is profoundly out of touch with itself. In my case, I believe that my stomach muscles may have lost their way in the world altogether, nevermore to rig it in.
Well, last night brought about something pretty hilarious at our house. I was sitting on the couch nursing the twins, and my husband and bigger girls were playing with balloons. They were trying to bat them across the room. My husband swung their little toy broom with a good wrist flick, and off came the head. It shot across the room on a rope and hit me in the eye, giving me a great big Easter shiner. Even at the time I could see this was a funny one. I could hear us reflecting in future years “Well, at least this Easter you aren’t nursing the twins and a black eye!”
Anyway, however fascinating this anecdote, it is beside the point. It did however, lead me to the point. I remembered a note my husband left on the breakfast table two years ago, when Easter fell about 2 weeks after the birth of our second daughter Daphne. I believe it was entitled “A note to my wife Easter morning before she even goes near the closet,” or something romantic like that.
But the point he made in it was one that I am appreciating again this year. It was basically that there is no more appropriate way to celebrate Easter than to be in a body that has been taken all apart on behalf of another. So do it cheerfully. Look at your babies and laugh at the new life and don’t become absorbed in the old death. This is the good stuff – all the extra weight included.