Easter 2010: Part One

So. Easter, my arch-nemesis. We meet again.

I love Easter, of course, because it's one of the few times a year when people don't look at you funny when they catch you eating nothing but jellybeans and chocolate marshmallow bunny heads for lunch. But it's exhausting. I feel like we've been doing these Easter festivities for weeks already.

If you are keeping score at home, her Easter loot from "the bunny" included a bathing suit, a T-shirt, monkey pajamas, two packs of stickers, a pair of sunglasses, some cheap pearl jewelry that is already broken and/or missing, bubbles, jellybeans, yellow M&M's, about two dollars in change, and this light thing that just spins and hums and is absolutely mesmerizing. Best buck-fifty I ever spent this week. When you add in all the swag from the grandparents, I estimate that she got about 8,000 pounds of crap. Not bad!

The third and hopefully final birthday cake. This one is your ever-popular DQ ice cream cake. Yay chocolate crunchies! There might still be some of this left in Aunt Kathy's freezer, and if there is we'll have that with my sister and nephew when they come in to visit. I am NOT getting another whole cake. Can't we do something different, like birthday pudding or something? I am running out of pants.

My cousin Jason was in from Florida for the weekend, and apparently he was on egg-hiding duty. He did an excellent job, photographically speaking. The over-processed egg picture from yesterday was also hidden in Aunt Kathy's yard. Not that you asked, but I chose this particular picture because I sort of dig forsythias, even though they're just there. They're so ... yellow and happy.

This outfit is from last year. I love it. But I remember when these were, you know, regular-length pants. She's grown like 6 inches since last year, but she hasn't gained much weight, and now she's out of diapers, so last year's 3T's still fit. Except, they look like completely different clothes, don't they? Also: it's been like 80+ degrees for a week and this shit can stop any time because I hate sweat, and my feet are not anywhere close to sandal-ready.

Counting the money with Uncle Quack. You know, now that I think about it, I have no idea how much money we actually got. It's all going into her piggy bank, but still. I wonder if we even opened all the eggs yet? I need to double-check when I get home.

This is Jason, who hid the eggs. He had almost as much fun playing with Shae's toys as Shae did. And it's worth a mention that he's going on the family camping trip later. So maybe, just maybe, camping might be fun -- or at least tolerable.

Tomorrow: The other side of the family!

Farewell to an Arm (and a Heart and a Soul)

NOTE: The rest of this is about football, and it contains swear words. Mostly "asshole." You might want to skip this one and come back tomorrow, when I put up Easter pictures. I mean, you can read this if you want, but it's probably going to get me disowned. AGAIN. Why don't you just look at the fancy special effects on this picture and try again later?

Okay, don't say I didn't warn you ... proceed at your own risk. IF YOU DARE.

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I am now a fan without a team. This has been a long time coming. And yet, my heart breaks to do it.

On Easter Sunday, the Philadelphia Eagles traded away Donovan McNabb to the Washington Redskins -- a division rival! -- for two draft picks, one in 2010 and another next year. Two "maybes" for a definite.

Assholes.

For most of my life, I have been an Eagles fan. Sure, in high school and college I "experimented" a little, and had a brief fling with the Buffalo Bills, my poor beleaguered Buffalo Bills, who will always hold a special place in my heart. But my first true love has always been the Eagles.

It is true that I have not always loved everything about the team. I think that Ron Jaworski is a grade-A douchenozzle. I never really liked Randall Cunningham or Rodney Peete or Buddy Ryan or Rich Kotite. I want to forget Fred-Ex. I don't even remember Ray Rhodes.

Perhaps I have only blocked out the most unpleasant things, though, because I remember Harold Charmichael, and the "Gang Green" defense, and Dick Vermeil before he became a smarmy Blue Cross pitchman, and Andre Waters, and Reggie White. These names still give me a tingle.

When McNabb got drafted by the Eagles in 1999, I was not one of those people who booed. I am willing to bet that this was in large part because he was an Orangeman, like me. Fellow alums always get the benefit of the doubt, right? But I remember thinking: "This is a ... weird choice. I hope these guys know what they're doing. I want to believe."

I suppose it goes without saying that I was big into "The X-Files" at that point. Stranger things had happened.

And boy, did they ... in 8 of McNabb's 11 seasons in Philadelphia, the Eagles made the post-season. Five times, they played for the NFC Championship. One trip to the Super Bowl. Multiple Pro Bowls. 3rd highest win percentage of active QB's in the NFL, behind only the almighty Tom Brady and the almightier Peyton Manning. 4th-and-26! Fourth and goddamn twenty-six.

McNabb has never been anything other than a class act and a true gentleman while he was in Philadelphia. He married his college sweetheart. They have four kids together. He is not one of those "dudes" who hangs around strip clubs or drives around with guns in his car or gets snagged in the airport with 500 lbs. of cocaine in his suitcase. He appeared in soup commercials with his parents. His parents, y'all. You cannot possibly be more clean-cut than that.

But there are so many Eagles fans who say that, because they never got the Super Bowl ring they feel they "deserved," McNabb was a bum. Worthless. Good for nothing. A loser. A choker. A talentless hack. A fraud. All those other things, measurable and unmeasurable, that made him one of the best players in the NFL -- none of them appear to matter. The fact that he's been beaten and bruised and broken, hammered and heckled and hollered at, kept on coming back for more, and never had a negative word to say about anybody, ever -- those intangibles mean "nothing" because they came without a championship.

Hey, guess what? It took John Elway four tries and FIFTEEN YEARS to win a Super Bowl -- he eventually won two of them. And Dan Marino NEVER won a Super Bowl. Are they a couple of useless bums too?

Well, then, I quit this bitch. I don't want to be associated with people who seriously believe that winning isn't everything, but the ONLY thing. Because they? Are assholes. The lot of them.

Santa-booing, battery-throwing ASSHOLES.

I still love the Eagles, and I'll probably watch them all season from behind splayed fingers, but I will always and forever hate Eagles fans, even as I am one of them. And I hope they get exactly what they "deserve" this year: a Super Bowl. For Donovan. In Washington.

Assholes.

Building a Mystery

Since we were trying to keep Shae's birthday celebrations small this year, what with Easter being only a couple of days later, we decided that the big "showcase" event was going to be a trip to the Build-A-Bear Workshop to, um, build a bear. Or whatever. There are all kinds of different animals you can make there. Shae wanted to make a monkey but we actually said NO because, believe it or not, it actually IS possible to have too many stuffed monkeys in the house. Who knew?

Here she is, working the pedal on the fluffer-stuffer machine, or whatever the heck they call it. I didn't ask, since I was on camera duty. (Also: look at those skinny little chicken legs my kid has! I swear to God that we feed her. I think she has a tapeworm or something, because nobody who eats PB&J like she does should be so spindly.)

Picking out a heart to put inside her animal. She chose a soft grey cat. I am surprised that she didn't go with Hello Kitty, but she named this new kitty Owen. This is very sweet, and will also become ironic in a few short paragraphs.

I think the little air-fluffer machines are kind of cool, and I wish I had something similar for blow-drying Shae's hair, because she doesn't like to sit still even for a second.

Now we're getting Owen dressed. Here she is putting on a pair of underpants. YES. At Build-A-Bear, you can buy UNDERPANTS for your critters. I think this is simultaneously brilliant and a little bit horrifying. But the important thing to note here is that my daughter dressed her "boy" cat in Hello Kitty panties.

We probably made out better than some of the parents at Build-A-Bear that day -- we got one animal and one outfit (Hello Kitty pajamas), plus panties and slippers (both also Hello Kitty). We only spent $40, and they threw in a free Easter basket. Some people were walking around shellshocked while their kids were throwing around fairy princess dresses and magic wands and crowns and glass slippers and houses and whatever the hell all else. It's kind of chaotic in there.

All in all, though, it wasn't a bad time. It was super-crowded at the mall -- when did Good Friday become this huge shopping day, anyway? -- and it was hot, and Shae didn't really grasp what was going on, but she loves that kitty, and I suppose that is the important part anyway.

Party Monster

Since Shae's birthday is so close to Easter this year, we decided against having a big party. It's so much running around in a weekend, you know?

Plus her actual birthday was on a Thursday, and who wants to celebrate on a Thursday? I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

So I got a nice piece of cake from the little café across the courtyard from my office, we stuck a candle in it, and split it three ways.

Then, on Friday, we went to Build-A-Bear Workshop (more pictures later) and then a bunch of us went out for dinner (which reminds me -- leftovers tonight!).

Afterwards, we went to my grandparents' and sang "Happy Birthday" AGAIN and had delicious, delicious Dora cake, which was almost too pretty to cut.

Today we're taking a break, getting in some nap time, watching some movies, chowing down on some popcorn, before we get into all the Easter festivities tomorrow.

Which, incidentally will involve another birthday cake. DQ ice cream cake, this time. For not wanting to make a big deal, we sure have a lot of parties, no?

I will make sure to document any shenanigans, as usual. Can't promise there is going to be any leftover cake, though. Ice cream cake is good stuff.

You Are

I am now the parent of a PRE-SCHOOLER. It's official, because today she moves into her new classroom, and she'll be sharing her birthday cupcakes with her new friends.

Here's her birthday movie. You can watch her getting older in every picture. It's cool and creepy and I think I need to lie down. I am not ready to be old, even though I already am.

Happy birthday, Boo.