Eggs Don't Break...

Many years ago, while visiting my cousin in Florida, we were having a lively conversation around the kitchen table, that turned into a debate. My brother, my mother, my cousin and her brother and I were all in the kitchen My brother brings up the fact that you can’t break an egg in your hand, no matter how hard you squeeze it. My cousin’s brother didn’t believe it. This went on for several minutes until the inevitable happened.

My cousin’s brother got up from the table and went to the refrigerator to get an egg. He walked over to the sink and held the egg in the palm of his hand. He asked my brother which way do you want me to hold it. My brother and I are standing right there to watch “supposedly” nothing happen. My mother and cousin were across the room, still at the table chatting about how stupid we were. 

The moment of truth arrives as my cousin’s brother announces he will now crush the egg. He applies pressure, the egg breaks and the contents go flying! Some of the egg got on the curtains above the kitchen sink. However, the bulk of the yolk went flying across the room and landed on my mother’s head…prompting a cursing streak from my mother and hysterical laughter from everyone else. My cousin was not too amused, after she stopped laughing, because she had to wash her curtains.

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Another egg story, also many years ago. As a teenager I was fascinated with eggs. My mother broke them so perfectly that when you joined the two halves together, you could not even see the crack. Sometimes I would use Elmer’s glue and glue the halves together for the fun of it. This was well before we had iphones and computers and had to use our imaginations. This little pass time of mine got me an A on a college art project when I cut out a large egg shape from white cardboard and filled it with empty glued eggshells. The art professor loved it.

Now, my mother had a mischievous thought one day. We were going to visit a friend of hers that we hadn’t seen in a long time. She tells me to glue a few eggs together for her to bring to her friend’s house. After all the “hellos” and hugs, and while her friend, Mary, is distracted taking our coats to another room, my mother put’s the fake eggs into her refrigerator with her other eggs. Mary comes out and they start chatting. My mother tells Mary that she learned how to juggle eggs. Mary laughs. I laugh. My mother goes into the refrigerator and removes the fake eggs to show her how she does it. Mary starts saying, “No, no!” My mother begins throwing the eggs into the air and they all land on the floor. Mary is looking all over for the yolks. My mother is dying laughing. Mary is calling her crazy while exclaiming, “Where are the yolks? I can’t find the yolks!” It took a good while to calm down enough to be able to talk and tell her it was a joke. My mother had a spare egg to show her what we had done. My mother then took her broom and swept up the shells.

I have to say that these were two of the most funny moments in my life! 

Memories of Baskets & Eggs

There will be no Easter eggs, no baskets, no chocolate, no colored grass, no Easter egg hunts, no talk of the Easter rabbit in this house. Those days are long gone, but I remember them as if they were yesterday. I was reminiscing with my girls and asking them if they remembered any of it. They tell me yes, but they weren’t there for all the behind the scenes effort I put into pulling off a great Easter year after year. 

As only grandchildren on both sides of our families, my girls were spoiled for every occasion and birthday. I am as guilty, if not more, than anyone, of over indulging them their every wish. The fact that they were always so good and sweet and well behaved, only made me want to reward their behavior all the more. So when Easter rolled around, they got baskets from my mother in-law, filled little baskets with chocolates and colored eggs for the girls to find. When we went to my mother’s house, my brother had huge baskets with all sorts of little toys and even summer outfits in them. And when they woke up Easter Sunday, we had our own traditional ritual.

Every Easter I would cut out a big bunny head and color in the face. I made it a card and, inside the card, were instructions and clues to their Easter egg hunt. Every room in the house had a number of plastic eggs filled with chocolate treats. The little poem in the card revealed the number of eggs in each room so they could be sure to find them all. I would place the bunny card out side their bedroom door to find when they woke up. I must had hidden, with no exaggeration, at least 60 eggs of all sizes, all over the house. They loved the hunt for eggs more than the huge baskets waiting for them in the living room! I shopped for weeks before Easter, trying to find two of everything for their baskets. Little purple and pink stuffed bunnies, Barbie dolls, Slinkies, Jacks, Silly Putty, Jump Ropes, Stickers, jewelry, all sorts of little items I knew they would love. We sure made the most out of every Easter! After all the morning hunting and opening baskets and breakfast, we would get dressed and head over to my mom’s for dinner and spent the day with family. Those were special times. Times we took for granted when they happened and didn’t appreciate enough. It’s always the way in life, you never know what you got till it’s gone.

I would love to go back and revisit the days of Easters past, but that’s not the way things work. If you have young children and your parents are around to celebrate with you all, treasure these moments. Parents pass on, children grow up, and the holidays are never the same. “Used to be’s ain’t what they used to be,” as my mother would often say…and she was right.