Letting Go of Perfection

Whenever a holiday rolls around, I love to have little, memorable activities to do with the boys. After all, it was all of those special treats baked, songs sung, and decorating that I remember so lovingly from my own childhood. I also am a believer in (attempting) to let Easter "keep up" with Christmas, as Christ dying and rising for each of us is just as special as is His birth.

So today I set out to color Easter eggs with the boys, read a few special stories (The First Easter Bunny and The Three Trees), and make these Resurrection cookies that were posted on Amy's site. Now I had been given this recipe when I taught at our parish school (pre-children) but had managed to lose it over the years. Now that I had it again, this would be the year to try it.

I gathered all of the materials. The boys were eagerly engaged. They each took multiple turns beating the bag of nuts with the spoon. We then put the vinegar in the bowl - all boys agreed it smelled terrible. So far, so good.

We then began to separate the eggs. I let each boy take a turn holding my magnificent egg separator - it's fool proof! - and each would get to separate 1 egg, as the recipe called for three. Brennan went, followed by Nicholas. Then Philip eagerly seized the separator and held it oh so carefully while I poured the egg white through into the bowl. Just as the last of the white hit the bowl, I went to grab the tool from Philip and he flipped it.

The egg yolk slid into the bowl, spilling throughout the mixture upon impact.

Well, I tried to get the yolk out, but to no avail. The slightest bit remained, and my hope for perfect little meringues was dashed. The boys were enjoying it, however, so I plowed right along.

Next we added the salt. Each boy tasted his pinch and then threw another pinch into our mix. I then went to grab the cup of sugar from the opposite counter. And here was my next mistake - I momentarily left the boys with the other ingredients next to the bowl. As I turned back around, Philip had dumped a hefty mound of salt into the bowl. I dished as much of it out as I could, but I knew that our cookies would no longer taste as they should.

Ever the masochist, I went on still, and we began the beating with the mixer. For twenty minutes we beat, but to no avail. We would not get the stiff mounds that were supposed to form. Too much yolk. Way too much salt! But don't you think for a moment that this time was wasted. That twenty minutes was well spent as Brennan broke up egg shells that Nicholas would try to eat, and Philip and Nicholas would then argue over who gets the ever enchanting wooden spoon next so that they may "practice" being a soldier and beat the other boy. All of this while I stood helplessly mixing, hoping that peaks might form.

Finally we gave up, put our mounds on wax paper (forgot to add our nuts), and placed them in the oven. I put the boys to bed.

Deep down, I know our cookies will not be picture perfect in the morning. They may not resemble anything at all! But I look at the pile of salt on the table, the crumpled egg shells on the floor, and the boys asleep in their beds, and I know that I achieved my main purpose - a memory was made. A pleasant one.

As I tucked Brennan in bed tonight he reminded me "Tomorrow is Easter. Jesus will rise from the dead!".

So true. And the fact that he is focused on that above all else makes everything tonight all worthwhile.