Let's dye easter eggs!!

I was guilt-tripped into quickly coloring a dozen eggs tonight. By mom. I didn't have to do it. But she was already saying "it's a shame" that I likely wouldn't make mass tomorrow. Can you imagine? Meet my mother, Marie Barone. It's a SHAME?!?! Is she kidding? It's not even worth any anger beyond an eyeroll. It's funny how the worst part of Easter always for me was going to mass. At least on Christmas, we always went Xmas Eve. I'm sorry, but mass just screws up the entire day. And I felt that way when I LIVED there. If I go NOW, i've got the added aggravation of being STUCK at my parents' for, oh, about FOUR extra hours than I would be normally...as we wait till 4ish to leave for my cousins' for dinner. It's just too much hanging around there for me. And I'd be twitching and aggravated beyond belief by the time we left. I'm not being harsh. It's just reality. And it'd be reality for a majority of people who THINK i'm being harsh if THEY were in my situation, so SHUT UP!!

And so the years-old easter egg "kit" was layed out on the counter, but the instructions were punched out, and we were both having Senior Moments -- we couldn't remember if you mixed the vinegar with cold water, boiling water, or a mixture of both...despite doing this our entire lives. Mom went online to figure it out. Somewhere in this time frame of me trying to read between the holes in the packaging, I figured I'd just do it myself. I even had my coat on to leave. But I stood there, coat on, for at least 20 minutes, mixing a whopping 3 colors onto 12 eggs, and even putting both a "mom" and "dad" sticker on 2 of them. Like Martha fucking Stewart. I think it was equal parts wanting to save mom some time and nostalgia. It was a rushed, half-assed job, but I got it done. NO, I did NOT want to write all our names on the eggs in crayon before coloring them...or draw crosses and bunnies or other religious/springtime symbols...but thanks, mom, for asking. When she asked this, I was sure my aneurysm was finally coming, but I kept it at bay. Maybe she'd like me to write each Station of the Cross on the eggs?

It was just another of those increasingly frequent moments where I'm aware of how BLOODY bizarre my ENTIRE family is...I'm a grown man being guilt-tripped into dyeing easter eggs and attending Easter mass. Like i'm 17. Rituals and traditions that YEARS ago passed for others are still being practiced in OUR house. It's comforting in a way...yet very, very odd. My peers are coloring eggs for their KIDS, and I'M doing it still for MOMMY. It's all so borderline PSYCHO. "Mother!!"

And the weird thing is that I really DON'T respond to the guilt in the way that I'm sure it seems. I'm NOT going to mass tomorrow. It just AIN'T happening. In a way, I'd like to...not for Jesus, but for the TRADITION of it, for maybe seeing an old grammar school or town friend, for seeing who's there and what they're wearing, for strutting down the center aisle in a cocksure manner as I go to receive The Body of Christ...everything BUT religion. But, as I said, it's too early and it's too much running and waiting around. Logistics, baby, logistics. I'll go again some Easter Sunday, but not this year. I didn't go last year, either. But I have enough guilt...genuine guilt. Something as stupid as mass doesn't require my guilt. It's like life's battles -- you gotta pick the worthy ones to fight. If you're smart. You canNOT be a grown man or woman and CONSTANTLY worried about what Mommy or Daddy would think. By the way, the eggs look WONDERFUL! Now we DON'T still hide them. We're not THAT bad. Surprisingly.