taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Sunday, March 27, 2005

They need to put a warning on Peeps. "CAUTION: May cause violent mood swings. Do not feed to individuals under 15 years of age. Pure sugar causes temper tantrums and crying at bedtime."

Yes, the Easter basket was grazed upon all day. Even the baby figured it out: "These things are marshmallow! Whoopee!" She spent the entire day pacing frantically around the living room looking for more Peeps, and in fact became quite a good Peeps-thief, stealing the ears off our bunnies when our backs were turned. The older one silently chewed on candy until Meltdown Time at 8pm, when we found her huddled on the landing wearing silk pajamas and a poncho, weeping uncontrollably. "It's bedtime," I said to her, which was met by a steely glare. "You're making me VERY ANGRY, Mumma!" she yelled between sobs.

But the sugar high was good while it lasted. Church was a breeze. While Nick and I leaked tears throughout the very moving service, repenting madly, the children hunted eggs in the nursery. Afterwards, Amanda said she wanted to go to church every Sunday, which I think is probably a good idea, since the child needs a little more of the Fear of God in her.

Later, we went to my mother's for a spiral ham, which she'd bought from Graul's. But the scallopped potatoes were homemade. My sister and her boyfriend drove in from Philly, where they'd stayed the weekend and done touristy things and stayed in a "green" hotel, which I think means the sheets are all cotton or something. The nieces were less sullen than usual. And the rain fell outside the windows in the darkness, while we drank coffee and wine in the brightly lit kitchen.

Last Easter, I'd just come home from the hospital after having The Bee. I was high on Percocet and decided it would be a good idea to have the whole family over. I served food out of gift baskets, including fancy cheese and the Natty Boh that my friends had sent me in the hospital, and Queen Bee--who'd had a rocky birth and a heart murmmur--ended up having to go back to the hospital that day. It's all a fog now, a postpartum blur. Today she was marching around in her little high-top sneakers, picking up hard-boiled eggs and strawberries, and waving to everyone. A year is a very long time, even if it goes really, really fast.

3 Comments:

At 5:00 PM, Blogger chang said...

Peeps suck. I never got them. They tasted like pure shit. Even a sugar junkie, a pure sugar addict like myself, couldn't care less about them.

The Kid digs them though. Go figure.

Wait, when is the Queen Bee's birthday, anyway? Does she want peeps?

 
At 6:31 PM, Blogger XLT said...

If it's not too late, can I give a shout-out to my Peeps?

 
At 3:33 PM, Anonymous tbtine said...

Peeps? Ack.

The only thing that disturbs me more is that they are insinuating themselves into other holidays. I've seen black cat peeps, frosty the snowman peeps, shamrock peeps and valentine's peeps.

Although they're great when you microwave them with coco krispies--got me through my junior year of college.

 

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