I just put an old lady's maxi pad through the wash and all I can think is this is my life...


Monday, April 9, 2012

Easter? So what?!

Am I a bad parent for skipping Easter celebrations this year? For starters, I hate Easter! Really. As a non-religious person I find it completely pointless. I hate pastel colours and milk chocolate and bunnies. Seriously! A big, scary white bunny bringing baskets of candy is nowhere near as adorable as a fat man in a red suit coming down your chimney to bring you gifts. I mean really. All the Easter Bunny does is hop. And there's nothing very fun about that now is there? I can hope. Enough said. Anyway, not only do I hate Easter but my sweet hubby Turkey Butt was on base the entire long weekend (Thursday til whenever we pick him up today - Monday). Where's the fun in celebrating a holiday when the only person to appreciate it can't even be here. The guy is missing enough, I don't need him calling home and me being like, Oh hey hun, you missed it, we had this big super awesome easter celebration without you. Oh, and did I mention that Elodie is only 5.5 months old and couldn't given a crap if she has a basket full of goodies outside her bedroom door?

Considering all of these things, why is it then that I feel like a bad parent for not celebrating her first Easter? I'm also feeling a little bad for not celebrating her first St. Patrick's Day but again, hubby was away, I don't drink and we're not Irish! You know where my guilt comes from? It comes from following the blogs of these perfect little mama's and their perfect little newborns. I have two in mind in which the babies are younger than Elodie, the Mama's look better than I did before I ever got pregnant, and they have adorable little outfits for every damn holiday. As adorable as it is, it's kind of annoying too. I have a newborn so I know that looking perfect and well-rested and getting a baby (no matter how good natured) to sit still long enough to get a perfect photo of them is hard. I just wish they'd be a little more honest and admit that. Show the photo of the baby spitting up all over their perfect little First Easter outfit. Maybe then I won't have to feel so damn guilty about my lack of holiday parenting, my messy house, my unwashed hair, and the spit up stains on my daughter's onesie. That is all. This is my life.

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