Easter Dregs

I know my Easter bashing will be controversial.  Especially as I haven't been slogging it out at work since mid summer and longing for a sleep-in since Australia Day (a.k.a. Bogan Christmas).  But I'm going there anyway.  Look I've just arrived back in Australia and wouldn't mind doing a bit of shopping (seeing as the maximum size they stock in Japan is equal to our  XXS), or going to a cafe (as that worked out so well for me last time).  But everything's closed dam it.  I remember as a pub-going youngster, I was always spewing that all the bars were shut until midnight on Good Friday.  You had to be dedicated to starting up that late.  Thus, this despising of Easter is not a recently acquired hatred.  I've always been of the opinion that Easter was one of the crappier festivities.  A few bits of compounded chocolate - so what?   Christmas is far superior.  All those presents.  I used to wonder why my parents were such tight arses "Oh wow, a new jumper, gee, thanks a lot Mum"; when Santa used to go nuts.  I also wondered (as I was flying round the neighbourhood on my brand new pink bike with handle bar tassels, simultaneously playing donkey kong - nice one Sants), why the kids on the corner got a sleeping bag, when we got a trampoline and a slip-and-slide too.  They didn't seem that naughty.  However, come Easter time, their entire back yard would be an chocolate egg treasure hunt - while our stash was far less of a bounty.  I used to wish I'd let them have a jump on the 'tramp' over summer.  Revenge was theirs.

I always ate my entire load within the hour.  Then I had to get over feeling sick, possibly have a brown spew (the good thing was that it didn't taste that different coming up as it did going down), and finally come to the  realisation that it was all over, until December.  My sister made Easter last though.  She kept all her eggs on a shelf in the family room, where they would taunt me with their shiny foil wrapping for months.  Everyday she would take them out, painstakingly slowly unwrap them - so as not to rip the foil, have a little nibble and put them back.  Seriously those things went white before she was through with them.

Can I have some of yours Cordi?

These days it's no better.  This was the first year I've acknowledged Easter since '91.   I left out a couple of tiny Easter eggs and a Kinder Surprise (they didn't have a lot of options at the 711 late last night - by the way have you ever seen how expensive those bloody things are?  I got out a couple of bucks, but was shocked to find that for two of them it was $5.60....the 'surprises' are woeful too - Ferrero need to lift their game).  Valli came in to our room in the morning, with chocolate all over her face.  She'd already found the stash and had a mini picnic.  There was chocolate all over her bed.  She'd demolished everything - hmmm I wonder who she takes after?  Cordi found hers later and had to fend off an overly keen to share sister.

Dream on...

Where's the grub? Not happy!

They've been going to bed at midnight the last couple of nights, as Passover coincides with Easter this year.  Again, not a big fan.  I'm jiggy with the getting together of family etc, but that's as far as it goes.  I remember my first Passover.  I was six months pregnant and already hungry before we left.  My partner had insisted I not eat, because there would be mountains of food.  My first embarrassment came about because I couldn't fit into my assigned seat.  They had to rearrange the entire seating for thirty people.  There's no denying it.  I was a big unit.  I remember on the way to Melbourne from Tassie, complete strangers would catch sight of my belly, their eyes would bulge and I would hear "Whooooooaaaaahhhh" and "Jesus love, sure you're not gunna pop it out on the floor right now?" At first I was admitting I wasn't due for 3 months.  But I soon realised it would lead to more questions.  Plus when I admitted it was twins I would always get asked if I had twins in the family.  This was a polite way of saying "Did you have IVF".  "None of your business lady, just make my bloody decaf would you".

Straining at the front at almost 6 months

So the trip didn't start well.  I think after I got back to Tassie, I retired to my bedroom and didn't leave until I went to hospital nearly three months later.  So back to the Passover dinner.  As I mentioned I was starving, but was feasting off my imagination of a table groaning under the weight of mountains of tucker.  When I arrived, all I saw in the middle was some lettuce.  I became anxious.  Then the readings started.  They go on for quite some time don't they?  Then there was movement, I got all excited and began drooling.  However, all that ended up on my plate was a small piece of boiled potato swimming in salt water.  I looked around.  Was it a trick?  Where's the grub?  Following some more singing and talking, the next break came.....NOW it must the snacks - load me up.  A morsel of flat cracker like substance was passed out - the traditional Matzah bread - looking and tasting suspiciously like cardboard.  By the time the songs started again I was silently crying.  I didn't dare hope when the next break came.  Luckily I saved myself the trouble.  It was a plate of horseradish and some brown grated apple.  I then sucked down the subsequent boiled egg like it was manna from heaven.  Where was the mountain of food?  I felt betrayed and disillusioned.

The mountain came eventually.  Although to be honest, it was more like a hill.  However, by this stage it was 11pm and I was already asleep in the corner digesting the lining of my own stomach.

This year I was prepared.  I ate before I went and gladly joined in on the festivities.  Smug with the knowledge that I wasn't one of the initiates searching the room for food, I sat back and smiled.  Besides, all else failing we had a breakfast of chocolate to look forward to the next day.