Easter for me in the past has meant the time of year when Dad wanted the rain to fall so he could get the soil ready to sow the seeds for the crops. It also evolved around Christian meaning with the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.
At school when growing up there was the fun and mystery of the Easter bunny. The eating of hot crossed buns, and Easter eggs. This still remains! (I plan to go on a diet after Easter!)
Mum began a tradition of buying us all pyjamas for the winter. A tradition I’m now continuing with my son. I have his new pyjamas ready to give to him on Easter.
There was always a big family focus over Easter for me. This year, this has a new meaning, as my son turns one, and it is his first Easter.
It’s a big milestone, for my son, and for me, making this time very special, and not in the tradition sense. I’ve planned his first little birthday party. Printed photos of him growing over the last year, to make the milestone. The fun of his first birthday and Easter, being a perfect mix for the weekend. The Easter bunny feet are ready to put out (my big of fun too!), and I’ve planned my son’s first Easter egg hunt. It’s a time of transformation, and this year for beginning new traditions for my family. And the creation of new memories.
Happy Easter, however you choose to mark this point of the year.
As a new mum, there’s a lot to juggled. Maybe I don’t need to be going along to art class, I’m not sure I’ve got the time or if I can really afford it. But then my soul needs nourishment, and for me it’s natural to go along to art class with bubs. Can’t start them too young! So far bubs has been exposed to university, art classes, Pilates, and a creativity writing workshop I presented. His education is about to continue with an upcoming conference I’m presenting at. There’s lots of variety for him to experience, even now, just by me simply living my life.
During art class, Bub is in the sling, resting on my chest as I paint. He’s content. The other ladies in the class are amused, nothing like a little baby energy in the room to help with the creativity! Instead of a tea break half-way through the class, for me there’s a bottle break. I can use the time to chill, and also reflect what direction I want to take my painting (which I’m having to go to plan B because I’ve stuffed up! And Bubs has been such an angel I can’t even blame him. Completely my lesson to learn here!). I’m very grateful for Splashout to help accommodate by letting me come along with bubs.
By going along to art class, I’m reminded that my mum did something similar. She had her baby daughters in the wicker bassinets, under the table, while she did her china painting. It’s what the women in our family do. It’s a tradition. And I’m glad to be continuing it. The quiet things you’ve learnt from mum, which you then pass down to your child; an unexpected bonus, which also helps keep my memory of mum alive.
Valentine’s Day isn’t big in Australia, well not so much when I was growing up. It has become more commercial over the years and is something I’m more aware of.
I first learnt about Valentine’s Day in my early years at school. I thought it was specific between girls and boys or women and men, and was something to do with true love (even though I didn’t know that was).
When I got a Valentine’s card from a female cousin in America who was coming to visit us downunder in a few months, I was a bit confused because she wasn’t my girlfriend (I only wanted love cards from guys!). In Australia this was a very different cultural thing for me to have experienced.
Mum sat me down and explained it wasn’t that sort of love, but a true friendship love which doesn’t matter if it’s from a boy or a girl. And that this was part of the American culture to give cards to people who were meaningful in your life and someone you loved. I’m not sure I really understood (I was under ten years old at the time).
Mum then started to buy us (me and my sisters) inexpensive gifts each year for Valentine’s Day, partly because some of my ancestry is linked to America and I believe this was mum’s subtle way to open my mind.
One year, much later when I was in my early 20s mum gave me (and my sisters) a purse-sized packet of tissues with love hearts on it. I wasn’t impressed. Even though it only costs a few backs, I told mum it was a waste of money, as it was tissues. She was hurt and upset of course. It was just some fun, something little. Something I realised much later after she passed that required some thought to find something practical and without spending much money. And I was sad. I’d not received the gift graciously. Over time this has turned into the most cherished memories of mine for Valentine’s Day much better than any gifts from guys I’d been dating or in relationships at the time, (including a dozen roses) and a hell of a lot more meaningful than any gift I’d received from a man ~ who was supposedly in love with me at the time!
The gift giving has also been a tradition between me and my sisters each year on Valentine’s Day. My aim is to be thoughtful in the gifts bought and not spend much money. It’s hard to do. It reminds me of the effort mum put in to her gifts to me. How I was ungrateful but also how I learnt (finally) the deeper meaning of giving on this day, beyond convention, commercialism, to connect to the spirit of giving and recognising those who matter in my life, those who stay by my side no matter what. I might not be able to tell mum this. At least I can continue the celebration in her memory.
What special Valentine’s Day memories do you have? Feel free to share them below.
One of my Irish friends introduced me to a lovely tradition from her country. Women’s Christmas.
It’s an Irish tradition where after Christmas the family puts on a meal for the women of the household to say thank you for all their preparation and cooking over Christmas.
So my friend invited some women and we all went out and treated ourselves in honour of this Irish tradition. A fun night sharing a meal and drinks and conversation with fellow women.
Happy Women’s Christmas to you 💖