Fumbling Toward Our Goals - Easter

Happy Easter, and hello to all our family, friends, and fellow bloggers!

Today, however, I'm experiencing a new degree of difficulty in feeling the spirit of Easter, rather like I did last Christmas. This is not the fault of faltering beliefs, but of selfish circumstance...which, unfortunately, doesn't really make it any easier.

You see, the Easter Bunny visited (minimally) last night, and my children have been coughing and coming to my side for nose wipes since discovering their baskets. My husband is in bed even as I type this, miserable with what we believe is an impending cold...the same cold of which I seem to be possessed. My throat (and presumably his, based on the every-other-hour "keeehk-keeeehk of throat spray being shot into his mouth during the night) (TANGENT WARNING: Cory introduced us to Cepacol, and bless her for it...if you're still relying on Chloraseptic to knock out throat pain, spend the $4 to swap to Cepacol and - after swallowing the wretched stuff and thinking momentarily that you made the wrong decision - revel in your complete pain relief!) (picking up with the tale...) feels as though a master carpenter has been performing sandpaper magic in it, my nose is - I'll spare you the details - disgusting, my head hurts, my eyes are weepy and gooey...and I think Jason is worse. My dad is ill, so we're not going to have Easter dinner at my folks' as planned. My sister has strep throat, so she and Victor won't be joining us, either. Oh, crap...speaking of which, I'll be right back. I still need to feed my family tonight, so it's time to go throw a chicken in the crock pot.

Okay, so half an hour has passed here, the chicken - and onions and carrots and potatoes - is in the crockpot, and I'm back. You (I hope) never left. Anyway, there will be no church today, lest we infect everyone within coughing range, there will be no egg hunt, for we never had the time or opportunity to color any, and our home is in such disarray we couldn't find the plastic ones for the baskets, let alone a hunt, we are all ill, and...basically, none of my goals have been met for Easter. I had even planned to bone and stuff and roll the chicken, all of which was abandoned when I learned that dinner would just be us tonight, and though I can't imagine any of us will have much appetite, the chicken required cooking, hence the crockpot. (I'll remove it from the crockpot and stick it under the broiler for 10 - 15 minutes for crispiness and browning later.)

Jason and I have some lofty goals, you see, none of which are coming to fruition, and most of which revolve around owning a home. Yes, we, like all other Americans, want very much to be homeowners. We, however, did not get ourselves into ARMs to attempt to live in a home we couldn't afford, only to expect the government to bail us out of the consequences for our stupidity. (This is not a political commentary...it's just frustration with the blatant stupidity of our generation.) We scrimped and saved and prayed and waited. Now we are in a position (almost) to purchase - somewhere - and would like to do so before December 1st to enjoy the tax credit, but we feel impotent to do so. Jason's work is here, and here is not an option.

We would like to have a garden...and raise chickens...and join a CSA (or two)... and learn home canning...and build food storage...and purchase a giant garage freezer to freeze the grass-fed cow we want to buy and split with our family or friends...and basically just opt out of the regular food market. But that means we need a home.

We would like to celebrate the holidays (particularly the religious ones) with great fanfare, decor, tradition and spirituality...and, apart from hoping to be healthy when that occurs in the future, let's be honest: it's really hard to feel all Christmas-y as an adult in a teeny little apartment where we live on top of each other...or to want to buy gifts - which equates to "more stuff" - when living in that same miniscule dump.

We would like to replace our furniture. Have our kids in their own rooms. Have a distinctly different area (or ROOM!) for our office, dining, laundry, cooking, and living. (A lot to ask, I know.) Have a home that doesn't contribute to our myriad illnesses.

Huh?, you ask. In the last week we have had the place sprayed for cockroaches (Jason did it once, and two days later the professional did it...) and have discovered and attempted to irradicate a(n un)healthy amount of MOLD in our bedroom and bathroom, thanks to the pathetically poor ventiliation in this forsaken hades. Neither of those things can possibly be good to breathe, right? Mold spores alone can kill you - slowly and painfully - and exposure to multiple types of roach death spray just cannot be good to inhale.

So here we are. It's Easter, and my kids don't know that at Easter time we dress up in beautiful Spring-oriented clothing and attend a worship service in honor of their Savior who rose from the dead. They don't know that at Easter we hunt for Easter eggs colored and bedecked by them on the kitchen table we don't own. They don't realize that there is more to Easter - family visits, special dinners, candy galore - than a cheap wicker basket with some plastic grass and an Easter bunny who leaves playdough and a chocolate bunny...oh, and that "Jesus died but isn't dead any more!", as quoted by my son after I spent half an hour attempted to explain the atonement and resurrection. (I guess that's not bad for 4, really.)

No fresh chicken eggs in the back yard requiring collection. No sacrament talks. No seperate bedrooms. No extended family celebration via egg hunt, scripture-reading, and grandiose dinner. Not even clean air to breathe...in our very own home. No wonder we've all been taking turns being sick the last number of months. Our "home" is killing us.

So I apologize for the pages-long whine...it's really just for me. I know that "someday" we'll own a home, "someday" we'll have to time and wherewithal and ROOM to do all the things that we both feel are so pressing and important...but that time is not now.

Now we're sick...on Easter...and have nothing to show for this most sacred of holidays except the few minutes we'll spend over dinner attempting to teach the kids more about the REAL "reason for the season". I know that's something - the most important something - but they'll be breathing toxic air while we do it, and eating a makeshift dinner that they can't taste, thanks to stuffy noses.

As always, we find ourselves fumbling toward our goals...and never really reaching that light at the end of the tunnel, which is constantly falling farther and farther back. Aaaaaah, depression on Easter. I think I'm gonna go take a prozac.

Happy Easter, everyone! Hope yours is better - and healthier! - than ours!