The real meaning of Easter

Easter at the House of M includes timeworn traditions such as hunting for eggs, fighting over chocolate, stealing candy from your brother’s and sister’s baskets, sneaking treats when your parents have explicitly told you that you’ve had your quota, and watching the Arsenal football match on Fox Soccer Channel. As if that isn’t enough to fill a day, I’d like to add to it something novel: going to church.

Raised in a moderately Catholic family—parents Catholic, their parents Catholic, everyone attending Catholic school, but all doing so more for the tradition of it rather than the fervor—I feel that the legacy should continue with my children. The fly in the ointment is that I’m married to a non-Catholic who is allergic to organized religion.

Husband has made it clear that while he will not oppose my need to expose the kids to religion, he is not prepared to become a “happy clapper” and thus will not be joining us at Mass. (For the record, I haven’t actually come across many happy clappers over my years and still hold hopes that he’ll accompany us. But so far, no dice.)

So that leaves me with the challenge of taking the kids to Mass solo.

I have managed this plenty of time in the past, but it’s such a major drag, and I’m fairly certain defeats the whole spiritual benefit of our going in the first place. Usually what happens is I show up, loaded down with my young, a sippy cup or two, and some books or toys to keep them happy. On the occasions I forget toys, a missalette (book of hymns and readings) must be sacrificed for the greater good.

Then we get about 10 minutes in before one of them wants to know when we can leave and get donuts. Occasionally I’ll get a runner who takes off down the aisle. Always I have someone announce rather loudly, “This is soooooooo boooooooooring.” (That’s always a crowd pleaser.) And before we’ve even made it through the first reading I’m breaking the Third Commandment and through gritted teeth swearing at the kids.

“For the love of G*d would you PLEASE pull it together or I swear to Ch***t I’m going to beat you right here and now!”

I mean, really can’t understand why Husband doesn’t want to mix this into our holiday traditions.

But with all the things that Easter does represent—a fresh start, new life—maybe this year will feature some positive change for our little pack, too. Stay tuned…and Happy Easter!