Happy Easter!

We trucked on down I80 this weekend.

For the past few years, we’ve spent Easter away from home-aha.

We go Easter egg hunting. Play at the park. And see some familiar faces.

And it’s the one Sunday of the year that we get back to the little white church I grew up in.

My sister was home this year, too. So we got to dress all the children up like dolls and make them pose for pictures as if they look that dapper and divine every single day of the year. I think the oldest actually had real tears over putting on khaki-like pants. And then the tears ceased when he decided, “they’re actually more comfortable than jeans, I guess”. Boys. Hmph.

And though I did snap a few photos, I’ve given up on things like tucked-in shirts, at least for the time being. And I got a major arm workout from the pre-treating action I had to enlist when the middlest finally agreed to part with his pink shirt at the end of the day {he did change his pants after splitting the crotch wide open during church and proceeding to put his entire lower arm into the slot. Yes. Into the crotchal region. In church.}. Another reminder that we just can’t have nice things.

They lined up and gave me every ounce of their attention so I could perfectly capture their angelic nature. Hey, at this point, I am just thrilled to have all three wearing clothes, in the same frame together. Beggars can’t be choosers.

The whole crew was a bit of a wild and crazy bunch. People offered to pay us money to sit behind us in church every week. We bring the noise and the funk everywhere we go. God’s house, no exception.

And of course, three months ago, I coordinated their outfits {because that’s when the spring stuff came out and was 40% off. Hallelujah!}. And the Mr. found the most delightfully springy pink frock. And I ended up throwing on my potato-sack-bottom dress circa 2013. And I say this because it truly makes my rear end look as if I am donning a potato sack. But a pink gingham potato sack has to be on-trend, right?

And Har totes rocked the bowtie, once again. Because he is just a nutty little old-man-baby professor.

After brunch and some playing outside, we were back on the road again, enjoying a screaming one year old who only felt it appropriate to sleep just 20 minutes during the hour and a half NAPTIME drive. But we made it home in one piece feeling thankful for all of the blessings of the day, more memories made, this life, and the big J-man’s {and no, I don’t mean Jonah} sacrifice.

Happy Easter, friends! Hope yours was eggs-ellent!