Damn Gina, what a busy weekend. Our Easter game is solid, plus we finally got adult furniture delivered and I broke my gat damn pinky toe in a freak walking-down-the-stairs accident. Um, I mean a rogue velociraptor attacked my family and in a heroic life-saving feat, I broke the tiniest of toes. It's a small price to pay. (But seriously, I slipped on the stairs, soooo NBD. Just tape it up, get some wine and walk it off.)

The Easter Bunny even brought stuff for the dogs and mom and dad, how thoughtful.

Before we got grown-up furniture, we had a tiny Spider-Man card table a lot like this one with a big gash in the middle of it from when one of the kids got stabby. So a table that fits a grown ass is an exciting upgrade.

My kid and I have been planting Easter seeds every year since I found the idea on Pinterest, but this year we got to introduce our traditions to all the other kids. 

Each year I get a lil more legit with the packaging to keep the magic alive.

But what ARE Easter seeds?! I thought you'd never ask.

Shhhh, it's dollar store jelly beans.

But what do they GROW?! I thought you'd never ask.

Dollar store candy and yard art!
Imagine if you bought Gucci jelly beans.

Another of my favorite Easter traditions is having people over to grill out and make Peeps s'mores in the fire pit on Easter Eve. Adult dranks. Kids with sugar highs. Fire. It's a winning combination.

We get the chocolate XL bars - Reese's, cookies 'n creme, milk, dark, etc. I should have taken a picture of the display, but I had too many Not Your Father's Ginger Ales by that point and I forgot. You get it though.

Between alllll the festivities and candy and treats and staying up late and waking up early and kids being kids and excitement in general, mama is FUGGIN TIRED and FAT, but that's par for the course with a belly full of sugar coated marshmallows. We're back on track with the fitness now that it's over, but it was fun and worth every s'more. #noragrets

Everybody say, "Furry!"


  1. The Easter seeds is fucking genius. I'm going to steal that next year. I remember last year I figured Olivia and Jackson (then 9 and 7) could care less so we did baskets and I didn't hide eggs in the yard. Apparently, it was a low point in their childhood and I heard about it all year. This year they took it upon themselves to find the eggs in the basement and left the Bunny a note to fill the damn things and hide them OR ELSE. So there we were Saturday night, filling 105 plastic eggs with jellybeans only to realize it was freaking snowing. We had to hide them in the house which was kind of lame.


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