Nicoleisms on Easter

My six year old is really quite confused about Easter. I'm an atheist (though not in an uppity better-than-you way. More of a I'm-too-lazy-to-care-about-this way) and my husband calls himself Christian, but let's call it agnostic for accuracy's sake. Point being we've never properly explained Easter besides "hey, it's that time of year we color eggs and a bunny hides them."
So a little while ago I was at the sears optical waiting to get my glasses and Nicole picks up a Highlights magazine and wants to read it to me and there's a big article on Easter in there. It sounded something like this "For Christians Easter is one of the most important religious celebrations of the year. This holiday marks the day that Christians believe that Jesus Christ rose from the dead??? It is knows as the Resurrection." Pause here for the oddest look from her, then continues:
"To celebrate Easter people will take part in the same celebrations. Eggs, for example, represent new life and the Resurrection..." where she then stops reading, as if giving up on this article ever making sense, and flips to something sensible. Ah, hidden picture. That's better.
Since then she has been asking questions here or there that I have a hard time answering. Maybe I should send her off to church, but I know churches don't really like it when it's just the kid and no parents. I know this having done it all throughout my childhood.
Anyway, today it gets better. She asked me "Why do we call it Easter when it's about this guy" "His name is Jesus, honey" "When it's about Jesus coming back from the dead? Shouldn't we just call it Jesus popping out from his grave day? And it's silly because if he was dead how did he come back? He couldn't have done that?? And why do we color eggs and have a bunny hide them?" Those are great points, Nicole. I have no idea. Not a clue. Instead I was laughing my ass off while she looked at me confusedly "what's so funny mommy?" She wants an answer Uh, nothing. You have a good point, sweetie. I have no idea. You'll have to ask someone who knows.
Poor Nicole is already confused about death. My grandpa passed a couple of years ago and just before that we went to the hospital to visit him. She was 4 at the time, but she remembers and insists we visited him at the post office which has given her a really odd obsession with post offices. I think the most confusing part for her is that we can't see him anymore. I try to explain, but she just says "we can just dig him up and see him" Uhhhh. Hmmm...No? How do I explain decay? That seems too traumatic. More to the point I sort of fibbed and told her he was buried instead of telling her he was actually cremated because trying to explain that would have been more difficult. "Well honey. See they put his body in a hot hot fire and burn it up until it's ashes" seemed an unnecessary detail to me. So this whole learning about Jesus coming up from the dead like some holy zombie is really just baffling for her and she's having a hard time understanding it and how that dammed bunny and his eggs fit in. I'm sure if daddy was here he could probably explain this in a totally non sacrilegious way, but I can't.

Mrs. Complainy Pants

I hate to complain. I do, really. Don't give me that look! But being a part time single mom of three is freaking exhausting. I don't know how my friends with jobs do this, but maybe it's easier with a job because someone else gets to watch the little energy vampires for awhile. Like yesterday, for example. I'm feeding the baby his morning cereal and I lick some off my hand. Aaaand that's a booger. Of course it is. There is something seriously wrong with my day when accidentally ingesting a booger not only doesn't surprise me, but doesn't gross me out as much as it should.
I think back to when it was just one kid and shake my head. I was an idiot to complain back then. Think chasing a 3 year old is exhausting? Now do it with a baby attached to your hip and simultaneously getting your 6 year old to stay on track with her homework. Think it's hard to get up with a baby during the night? Now do that a few times a night and get up at 6am for school. Oh, and you can't go to bed until midnight because you have shit to do when the kids go to bed at 8. Like eating dinner uninterrupted or showering or quietly doing the dishes when a baby isn't adamant about climbing in the dishwasher or emailing the hubby or paying bills. You get the idea.  Think going to the store is a challenge? Try it with three children on the cart while the 3 year old sees something shiny over there and the 6 year old inquires about the possibility of toys. "No you can't have this, you can't have that. You ask again I'll get you with a wiffle ball bat" I'll sing insanely as I walk through the store. Sometimes I forget people can hear me when I'm out in public.
So occasionally I'll lament at how easy I had it with one and sit on my pity pot, but then I remember how wonderful I have it. My six year old with her compassion and mother hen personality. She's always trying to make her sister and brother happy. My three year old with her wild imagination and big personality. I don't think I'll forget when she renamed her stuffed kitty, Wishy, to Fenga Fanga and when I asked what happened to Wishy her only reply was "Wishy got hurt" Uh-huh. Think I'll sleep with the doors locked if you don't mind sweetie.  And my baby. Oh, I am going to miss his sweet baby head when he gets bigger. As much as he keeps me up at night, I do love to snuggle his cute little butt.
I guess my point is I could whine and complain about how challenging and exhausting this is, but at the end of the day I couldn't be happier. Smelly, maybe, but happy.

Temporary Insanity: That's My Story and I'm Sticking To It

Before I dive right into this next bit I have to preface it. I have a good friend from our last duty station who now lives around our new duty station. We don't get to spend that much time together anymore because she lives *just* out of reach at about an hour away. At any rate, they are now moving away and she wanted to get together one last time and go get the kids out to have some fun for spring break.

Orlando.
Holy crap, what have I gotten myself into? Five days at the Nickelodeon Suites. My kids were amped, her kid was amped, my baby was off schedule and so was everyone else. Recipe for insanity complete. A hotel full of screaming hordes of children. It was nice to do something nice and fun for the kids. Every day every couple of hours right outside our room "Are you all ready for slime!" "YEAH!" and this little show would go on for fifteen minutes or so. Kids were mostly too excited to sleep through all that excitement. No nap + lots and lots of stimulation = mommy must not kill. mommy must remember this is for you. mommy loves you. must not have "Here's Johnny!" moment.
We did attempt to go to the outlet mall and do some shopping for us. This went just fine for about an hour. After that, are you ready for drop and flop time! Her five year old and my three year old were at each other's throats and my six year old with the momma hen complex was ready to write them both off, to be polite. I think I left that place with a twitch.
Next day, thunderstorm and tornado warnings all day! Vacation! Yay! But that did give us a day in the room of not hearing screaming hordes of children ready for slime and frolicking about in the pool. We had a poolside room. Six floors up, but still poolside. And loud.
Fun thing we did do is we did the character breakfast for the kids. Pricey, but worth it. Food was decent, but the kid's faces when they met Aang and Dora and Squidward and Spongebob and Patrick. You could tell that it meant a lot to them.
The kids loved the pool and my six year old's favorite part was the daily mass sliming. She was so happy. My three year old had lots of fun wandering into the zero depth entry water which is it's designed like a beach, so I could sit at the shallow end with the baby. They all loved it, which is what I keep reminding myself. The kids. They had so much fun. So much. Fun. Please ignore that twitch I get as I say that.
I have to thank my friend for inviting me along on her trip through temporary insanity no matter how twitchy it made me. Next time, not without the husband.