I’ve been a mom for close to fifteen years now (counting in utero – definitely am not ready for TQ 👑 to be that old yet) and you’d think we’d have our traditions set by now right?
No. Not if you’re a procrastinator, not the best party planner (just indecisive – do we want a party 🎉 do we not want a party?) and have only within the past couple years discovered Pinterest.
We’re Catholic which in my family meant I was raised around a lot of religious statues and photos of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. But we didn’t “practice.”
We didn’t go to church at the holidays, or ever. It was something we had – Catholocism, in the same context that we had brown eyes. So I’m not the one to ask about “Catholic guilt.” Never felt it, don’t get it, have some theories about it now that I’m grown.
I wasnt even confirmed until I was in my 20s. And here are a couple more ridiculous stories.
My mom was “reborn” if you will and confirmed in the 90s – which yes, led to my confirmation but we’re getting there. We had to get all dressed up and go to the Easter mass which was when she’d get her “thing” done. At the service, my job was to videotape the blessed event. Ok – imagine the mid 90s and mall hair hasn’t lost it’s steam. I’m trying to focus the camera while getting a candle lit. I think to myself that I’m a multi-tasking pro and how I know I am destined to be a filmmaker. And don’t forget, cameras were much different then. I’m having to actually look through a lens WHILE fidgeting with the focus tab on top of the device.
I hear, “What is that smell?”
I’m zoomed in, oblivious to the snickers when my brother says to me, “Oh shit Carmen your hair is on fire.” It’s very dramatic for a moment – I begin to freak out remembering the stories of my mom telling me about how when I was young and she’d take me to church we would have to leave because I’d scream. I’m thinking to myself that I’ve obviously always been a demon because I am in church, and I am officially, literally, on fire!
My brother is able to put the fire out with his fingers and I only singed my bangs. The service was barely interrupted – only the one or two pews in front and back of us knew what was going on and laughed and I will never forget the little boy behind me asking, “Daddy, what’s that SMELL?”
Hairspray you brat!
I was humiliated!
What’s so funny is how it unfolds on the video!
Because my mom had gone through her religious reawakening, she insisted that if I and my brother-uncle (my uncle by blood but because we’re so close in age and we were raised together our relationship is more brother/sister) were going to be Godparents to my two youngest brothers, we’d have to go through the classes and be comfirmed.
I did it under duress and what is so sad is that my uncle was actually into it. I don’t think he missed a day. Whereas I think maybe I went one day. I probably went more than that – but I don’t think so.
And here’s the worst part of it. I didn’t even go to Confession. Now if you know anything about being Catholic then you know how important it is to go to Confession. Easter shouldn’t even come out of your mouth if you didn’t go to Confession. And Communion? Forget it. You may as well skip church and try again next year.
I didn’t go to Confession because I just truly didn’t understand it. My understanding of it was very juvenile (probably because I never showed up to class.) I hadn’t done any of those “deadly sins” and back then I didn’t even cuss. I felt no shame or guilt or pained about anything.
So I didn’t go. I was still Confirmed.
Ok – fast forward to the birth of my baby. I was one of those people who wasn’t going to “force religion” on my daughter. Although growing up I knew we were Catholic, my mom was still open to allowing me to going to different churches and checking things out. I always thought that was great and that’s what I wanted for my child.
But in 2010, my grandmother passed away. That whole experience was part of my own religious awakening – but this really isn’t a blog about relgion. I will get to the food in a moment. lol
At her memorial service, someone described her as devout. I remember thinking to myself they were talking about the wrong woman because I never once heard her talk about God, say a prayer, offer a prayer – go to church. She had her statues of Mary and painting of The Last Supper and all her own little mementos – but I never knew the meaning of those things to her.
I realized how deeply private and personal my grandmother’s faith was. Her items were not for show, but of a sign, between her and her Creator and only between them. Like I mentioned before, losing her was a profound experience for me.
And that’s when I knew I had to Baptise my child. Catholic. Because I knew what I was, and what I believed and if I couldn’t pass on my fundamental beliefs to my child, then really what kind of parent was I?
So I had my daughter Baptised and Confirmed the following year, 2011.
That has always been my favorite picture because she looks like a little princess. I went all out on that dress in honor of my grandparents because I knew if they were alive it is what they would have wanted.
Her Baptism was so magical. When they ducked her head in the water she whipped her head up with the biggest smile on her face and looked at me with utter joy. I don’t know what it meant to her in that moment, but her smile told me that she knew and felt that something very special had happened to her.
Afterwards, I felt this weird bond to her. I kept telling myself that me and my daughter are Catholic. I would internally list everything we had in common: same last name, brown hair, brown eyes, Catholic. I can still barely understand it, but I think it has something to do with that our children have their own lives and are here for their own little missions but they’re still a part of us. A breathing, thinking little being quite literally made from us and if we can’t shape them with pride in the most primal ways – giving them answers or at least a direction towards life’s most profound questions- then I think we’ve really failed them. And us. And the world.
So – all of this was leading to TQ’s Baptism was such a moving experience that our Easter tradition became going to Confession (😂😂😂 yes finally) and going to Easter services because we are so moved by it every year. We would do a buffet of foods the next morning. But we didn’t go in 2015, we started going with my aunt, we just missed it that year and she passed away in May of that year.
We’ve been struggling with what to do to make new traditions ever since. We’re still grieving our aunt and trying to do Easter without her. We didn’t even decorate eggs this year. TQ is getting older and just didn’t want to. But she had a friend spend the night and we waited for the Easter bunny and I made s delicious little dish that it’s now time to share. 😂
Between those Tasty videos and Pinterest and everything else I can’t remember where I found this idea but here we go. Cubed ham, there are seven scrambled eggs whisked in that bowl, frozen biscuits, cooking spray for the baking dish and the cheese isn’t pictured.
I only used half the biscuits because my baking dish was smallish. I tore off pieces and put them in the dish first (after spraying it with the cooking spray of course, don’t forget that step). I poured the whole bag of ham cubes over it, then the eggs and sprinkled with cheese:
There was a cute little friend watching the process too.
It goes into an oven for 35 minutes, 350 degrees.
I whipped together a hollandaise sauce that melted right over it – pure joy! It was buttery, sweet with fluffy eggs. We’d been munching on donuts and orange juice waiting for it to come out so this was it. A side of potatoes or a dish of fruit would be nice.
A couple different perspectives:
It was simple and flavorful and we may have finally found a nice breakfast food for Easter morning.
What are your Easter traditions and foods? Share in the comments and don’t forget to follow, like and share this post.
Thank you for reading.