This Is The Day the Lord Has Made, Let Us Rejoice and Be Glad!

That song has been going through my head for the whole of Holy Week. Easter has finally come and gone and I couldn't save myself - from myself. I'll get to that later.

Good Friday the kids were off of school and A took the day off. A and I decided that we would all go to Good Friday mass and the veneration of the cross at 7:30 PM. A was pretty adamant that this would be a short mass and if the kids were good we would all go out for ice cream, but then I said I couldn't have ice cream because I gave it up for Lent and then A said we could go out for pie and I LOVE pie but F said he "hates pie" and A said we would go someplace where they have pie and ice cream but F only wanted DQ so this already wasn't going well. The kids asked A numerous times how long mass would be and she said numerous times, "Oh, about 50 minutes. Not even an hour."

As established early last week, I am not a particularly good Catholic. But I am a very good skeptic. Now, last Sunday was Palm Sunday which includes a long reading of the Passion of the Christ. I knew this. A was again, pretty sure that it was not done on Palm Sunday, but I was fairly certain. (I always doubt my knowledge of Catholic tradition because A's dad spent some time in a Jesuit seminary and her mom has a masters in theology.) Weren't we all surprised when they asked us to sit for the gospel reading (you usually stand) and they launched into the Passion? Well, I wasn't surprised. Why is this so horrible? It just makes mass very long and a 7 and 9 year old and their father do not sit still for very long.

So, back to Good Friday. I really had no idea what to think about Good Friday mass because we never went as kids and obviously we have never gone as a family. "50 minutes." I was skeptical. I knew we were in trouble when they stared chanting the intentions and then we would kneel, then stand, then they would chant and we would kneel, then stand. The big moment finally arrived - the veneration of the cross at about an hour and ten minutes in. The kids were getting tired as was I and they knew it was lasting more than "50 minutes." All right, up to venerate the cross, couple of more prayers, a song and outta here. Nope - Time for communion. A looked at me as we were kneeling and mouthed, "When we stand - we leave." Her idea, not mine. We stood. I walked. I walked right onto my rocket ship to hell and held the hatch open so my family could accompany me. We are terrible! 

Sorry kids, no ice cream/pie. Unhappy campers!

Saturday was a beautiful spring day and we had a great time outside. Believe me, we had no intention of going to the Easter Vigil Saturday night - we both knew for sure that was a two-hour marathon.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny. Happy Easter! The kids found their weak-ass baskets with one chocolate bunny and a small handful of little chocolate somethings. I am so sick of all the candy the kids get. Luckily they lose interest real quick. We should just throw it away. A was disappointed that they didn't get new Crocs in their baskets. I rolled my eyes. Moving on.

Easter mass. No drama. Everything as planned/expected.

For Easter dinner we invited my sister and her family and another family of mutual friends. We keep it simple - ham, cheesy potatoes, green beans, salad and lamb cake. I love ham. It will be my downfall, like Mama Cass. And this is where I failed to save myself. I ate ham while I sliced it and then I had two helpings of ham and potatoes and beans. Plus lamb cake. And I wonder why I don't lose any weight. Look in the mirror, jerk-wad and stop putting stuff in your mouth. Jeeze!

Wait, what is the deal with the "lamb cake," you ask? (OK, at this point only D has asked, but she is speaking for the silent majority of my readers out there - or she might be the silent majority. Is one a majority of two? Ugh, math - never mind.)

My wife's family celebrates with cake. It seems like every holiday has a cake component. A didn't grow up with this tradition. It seems to have been born along with the grandkids - my kids. For years we have had the lamb cake (you know "Lamb of God") and for years my brother in law (my sister's husband - they always join us for Easter) and I have secretly joked about cutting into the lamb cake and having strawberry jelly ooze out. Ha, ha, ha! Ahem. Well, there is no joking with my mother in law (MIL) about the lamb cake. Frowns all around. This year my MIL is still in FLA so I decided to have a little fun with the lamb cake. Out of reverence to the Lord Jesus Christ our Savior and my MIL and A and the fact we are having twice as many people for dinner, I suggested two cakes - a traditional reverential one and a slightly more realistic/humorous one - created by moi. 

First off, my cake turned out way better than A's. It didn't stick to the mold and it stood up on its own without having to have its base "sculpted." Secondly, it was marvelously gory. "Gory" is really too strong a word here. For it to be truly gory we would have taken my brother in law's suggestion and pumped it full of strawberry jelly and we would have taken A's suggestion to put bones in it. (One suggestion, funny. One suggestion, gross. A, stick to the reverential cake baking.) Without further ado - the "Lamb Cakes."

Before

A quality reaction - A (in black) is unimpressed.

Anyone see "Silence of the Lambs?"

My second piece.

Just wait until tomorrow. 

Easter is in the books and there are no more Catholic high holidays until the end of the year, my gut is relieved. Now to have a ham sandwich. Where are the directions for doing a Heimlich on yourself? You can never be too careful around ham.

(The dog got in on the Easter spirit as well. Check out his blog for pictures of his humiliation.)