If you’re a current subscriber, log in below. If you would like to subscribe, please click the subscribe tab above.
Username and Password Help
It’s the morning after Easter as I write this; and while I scrolled through social media earlier I noticed that Easter is on trend now. It’s very in-style to be into Easter this year! Now, I realize Easter’s been a pretty big deal for a lot of y’all for a good long while, but I’m really seeing it take hold in the non-Easter sect. By that, I mean wine-drinking New York City artists who specialize in risqué paintings of…um… we’ll say “the figure.”
There they sit on blankets in Central Park in hot pink designer suits, drinking champagne and taking pictures of themselves, apparently celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Or some may be childless career restaurant workers whose front yard sign probably shouldn’t say “He Is Risen,” but more “Never Went To Bed.” I scrolled past picture after picture of Easter celebrations that looked like a pastel, sunlit New Year’s Eve.
And I get it! It’s the first vaccinated holiday in a year! People were able to celebrate something with friends and family without threat of judgment or death or both. And what better day to finally get to hug Memaw than Easter? She loves Easter because it’s the low-key holiday. The gentle giant. She pops in some Sister Schuberts and lets Jesus (her kids) take the wheel.
Speaking of the wheel, my youngest kid had a one-man bike wreck this last week in front of former Mayor Hart’s house. I just happened to drive by minutes after it happened and saw my child walking down the road at the speed of a turtle on valium, tightly clutching the handlebars and pushing his bike.
Even from a distance, this sight was immediately unsettling because my kid is usually doing the exact opposite: atop his bike at 90 to nothing with arms outstretched, not holding any handlebars whatsoever. This same practice, I learned a few minutes later, was the exact catalyst for the accident. Literally. He catapulted onto his head.
The child was covered in scrapes, cuts and bruises in-the-round. We assume he tumbled and rolled a few times. His un-helmeted head had a bloody knot the size of medium-sized hushpuppy; and his pretty face had road rash down one side. It was bad enough to very seriously consider a trip to the clinic/ER but, as I eventually decided, not bad enough to actually go. It’s those times your mothering feels really tested – those should-I or shouldn’t-I moments. Sometimes you just have to trust your gut. Y’all mamas know what I mean.
He stayed out of school the next day so his weakened body could rejuvenate via Peeps Cereal and ice cream. He returned to school the next day, stepping proudly out of the car at the drop-off line in full glory; bandaged knees, facial wounds and a tender knot on his head.
That morning he got to sit in Ms. Leary’s desk chair to recount his harrowing tale to his entire class. I imagine that alone made it all worth it for him.
You can’t count on luck all the time, so my Easter message to everyone is that if you want your child to rise again, then make him wear a bike helmet.