Yesterday, we had our church egg hunt. I have to give background information on how we organize the hunt for the rest of my story to make sense.
The hunt is broken down into four age-appropriate groups with eggs hidden at different sections of the church property (Twos & threes; preschool & kindergarten; 1st & 2nd grade; and 3rd, 4th and 5th grade). When a child finds 12 eggs, he or she must sit down in order to let everyone have a chance to get at least 12 eggs. When every child has 12, then the kids are let loose again to gather the rest in their section. We found out doing it this way prevents the tears of a child only getting 4 when the child next to them has 20. We know approximately how many eggs are hidden in the various sections and take a head count during craft time. If more children show up in that age group than were planned for, then each child may have to sit down after finding 8 or 10 eggs at the start of the hunt before being allowed to find the rest.
Prizes are given out at the end of the hunt and everyone gets a prize. Of course the first prize given out is for the one who has the most eggs. Then there are prizes for the one with the most eggs of a certain color. If the helpers see that someone hasn't gotten a prize yet, a reason is made up, such as "the one who has on a yellow shirt" or "the one who's wearing a pink bow". The important thing is everyone wins something.
Now here's where the story gets funny. After all the preschool and kindergarten children found their 12 eggs and were let loose again, Aden was only able to find 2 more in his designated section. Somehow in all the chaos, he slipped around to another unsupervised section of the property to hunt while that group was still in craft time. We didn't realize he was missing until our group was handing out prizes. I found him coming around the corner with his egg bucket filled to the brim. His face was beaming. He was so proud of himself. I hated to tell him that the eggs he took from the back of the property belonged to another group and I had to take some of the eggs out of his bucket. Bless his heart. He really didn't know he had done anything wrong. I knew he had found 14 and let him keep another 2 before returning the rest to the helper in charge of the other group. He looked as if the tears were about to spill, but after I explained that other children wouldn't be able to get 12 if I let him keep them all, he was okay with it.
Leave it to my child to find the loophole in the egg hunt. Next year we will know to post spotters at the corners to prevent others from trying a similar tactic. He sure was determined to "win" the hunt. Of course he had no need to worry. He did win a prize and chose from the basket a foam airplane which broke before the end of the festival. (Fortunately, the Easter Bunny visited last night and had a sturdier plane in his basket). Danielle chose a jump rope as her egg hunt prize for the most green eggs and has been making up nonsensical jump rope chants as she hops up and down without twirling the rope.
The kids had fun with the craft project and playing with sidewalk chalk and once again I played the Easter Bunny while everyone was eating lunch.
This morning several church members came to compliment me on Danielle's dress. With a heavy heart (and at one point a lump in my throat), I had to confess the dress she wore was not one I made. Everyone who knows me well knows I make her Christmas and Easter dresses. So it was a perfectly logical assumption. On close inspection, it was obvious the "smocked" insert on her dress was mass produced by machine and no way resembled something hand-made. I picked it up on a consignment sale last month as something to throw on her to go to church this spring. When I bought it, I never thought it was going to be the dress she was going to wear on Easter morning.
I realize the full meaning of today was to celebrate the fact the tomb was empty and church service is not intended to be a fashion show, but I'm truly heart broken I didn't finish the dress in time. The Easter dress was supposed to be "Sherbet Fizz" from AS&E issue 59.
Ever since I first laid eyes on the pattern, I was determined to make it as an Easter dress. I started working on it in earnest back in January, after I realized I was not going to finish "Blue Bird" from AS&E 49 in time for Danielly's 4th birthday. (Yet another missed deadline and an uncompleted dress that had to be put to the side in an attempt to make the Easter dress deadline.) I've missed numerous hours of sleep for weeks, suffered a migraine, and experienced a full-blown panic attack (requiring a missed day of work) trying to get the Easter dress done.
Earlier last night I really thought I was going to make it, but at 2:30 this morning, I had to admit defeat and give up. The piping and binding on the sleeves were only half finished, the two pin tucks in the middle had not been placed, the hem still needed to be done, the button holes had been inked but not stitched, and 24 embroidered flowers above the pin tucks were not completed. On Thursday, I knew the 24 flowers around the skirt were out of the question for Easter, but intended on adding them later. Even if I used my previous sewing deadline tricks such as using "Wonder Tape" for the bottom skirt tucks and hems, sewed the buttons over the inked button hole lines, and safety pinned her in the dress, it was impossible. I shed a few frustrated tears and went to bed.
The Easter Bunny took a break from smocking at 12:30 AM to hide plastic colored eggs in the yard for the kids to find this morning. I heard the kids' exuberant chatter over what was in their baskets this morning at 00 dark thirty. I was too weary to get out of bed, but still managed to smile with their shouts of each new goody that was found in the baskets.
We dyed eggs today after church for Easter dinner, made Jell-O eggs from our egg mold, and baked Easter sugar cookies.
Yes, I do remember what the true meaning of the day was about. Easter happened with or without the finishing of the dress. That doesn't mean I'm not disappointing in my failure. The fact I can still finish the dress for Danielle to wear as long as there is warm weather is small consolation.
I can't be sure she will ever be willing to wear "Sherbet Fizz" when finished without it being a "special occasion dress." My little imp knows exactly which buttons to push. She will give me all the compliments in the world as I'm making the dress, but refuses to wear it except for something "special" (her words, not mine). It started happening last year. When I want her to wear a certain outfit, she won't without there being a battle of wills and tears on both sides. If she does wear what I want her to, she insists on wearing ridiculous dress up shoes or inappropriate ornamentation. Taking her to get portraits is an ordeal because she usually refuses wear the dress I made. Bribery is usually involved. We have left a portrait studio without having any pictures taken at all because of her ill behavior.
Throughout the day I've asked several questions and these are the honest answers.
Who is making dresses more for, her or me? It may come across as self-centered and selfish, but the dress is more for me. It's not so much pride, but a sense of accomplishment in achieving a difficult task. (The "I did it" feeling.) The only one who is disappointed and heartbroken today is me. It was important for the dress to have been ready on time. I hate not doing something on time or breaking promises, even if they are to myself.
Do I care if Danielle appreciates my efforts when she gets older? No. I don't do what I do for the recognition or appreciation. It's something I do because I want to. If there are any expectations, they are self-imposed and I'm not likely to lower them. Inherently, I'm detailed oriented and a bit of a perfectionist. To ask me to be otherwise would be like asking a fish to be a bird.
Is it still worth it? Yes, yes it is. There are only a few more Easters and few more Christmases I will lose sleep trying to get a dress done. (Most of the smocked dress patterns from magazines go up to size 8.) Before I'm ready, my little girl will be grown. There will be few things to remind me of her childhood. I want to look back at these little smocked dresses and portraits (no matter what I had to do to get them) and remember what she was like when she was little. The possibility of smocking for future grandchildren at my leisure in retirement does not seem too promising because my eyesight is bad already and my hands cramp up. No telling what full-blown arthritis is going to feel like. No, I only have a few years left to get dresses done and then many, many holidays where I will be well-rested. If Danielly wants to take up the needle for her own children, it will be her own sleep she loses.
Anyway, the Easter dress was not done and the bonnet bought to match is still in the closet, waiting for the day it can be taken from the shelf and worn.
