It's tradition, that's why!

Holidays would not be the same if no drama surfaced, everyone smiled and no tears shed. But because of the culmination of these antics and nuances and inconveniences, we have memories. We remember the year the turkey was dry and overcooked and everyone showed up and we only had one cake. We remember the sideways rain and crowding 45 people on Leonard's porch. We remember the hot sun and and the cool temps. We remember the food. We remember when we think that our cousin shouldn't have won the egg contest, when they won by pocking our egg. We remember our games cutting short due to crying, injury or rain. We remember the laughs. We remember the joy. We remember the wisecracks and inside jokes only our cousins know. And it is with the memories that we make more. Our memories become the templates of new memories. Backboards for creating ultimate memories, adding our chapter to life's story as we sculpt history.

Dyeing eggs are tradition. And we are going to dye eggs until I'm dead, and if I do things right, my kids, grandkids, greatgrands, etc., will keep on dyeing. Long live the Paas corporation. What our memories know, photographs often do not show. We sometimes capture the moment we hope for in perfect f stop, lighting and composition but we miss the meltdown that occurred before or the one that came right after. And so we are left with a semi-fraudulent memory. In my opinion, I think this is fine. I think the back story is great and I love a true, honesty and dirty photo. The photo of the helpless loving mom and the crying 2 year old. The image of the 10 year old who has just had her world as she knows it melted and her feelings are raw and real and captured in black and white intensifying their meaning. I also love blooper photos. The ones where you actually didn't catch the person you were supposed. The ones where everyone falls on one another. The ones where Mother Nature decides she wants to photo op and is quite candid about it.

Well, this year, dyeing eggs at our house went like this... I boiled a couple dozen eggs, prepped a couple dozen mugs for dye, introduced glitter and vegetable oil for effects, plucked the kids from their screens and started the egg dyeing. It seriously lasted Norman Rockwell-like only long enough for me to snap this below picture and post on IG. That's IT! Then the complaining and the he is doing it wrong started and Bash casually left the table and entered his room. Not dyeing anymore eggs. Bailey then left because she realized the magnitude of the situation and all I could think was "thank god I got a damn photo." This is a normal mom who likes to document everything reaction. I know it is. I also think it may be a normal thing to have a tiff over the egg dyeing. Point is, holidays add intensity because we have a need to make them perfect. Disney perfect/picture perfect/Rockwellesque, get my point? Sometimes it helps to release your expectations and pressure and enjoy the moment for what it is, pure bliss.