Sometimes Early Looks a Lot Like Late

I didn’t pull out the Easter decorations last year. I didn’t host a post-church family brunch. I didn’t color hard boiled eggs with the kids. Oh, we had a delightful celebration and I have no regrets whatsoever about the somewhat unorthodox way we made our observance, but that did not stop me from looking ahead to this year and planning a return to the Old Ways. I thought that certainly this year there would be decorations, there may well be a brunch – heck, I might even conduct my traditional frenzied search for last pair of white girl's tights anywhere in town.

These children own 17 types of adhesive products and yet they will steal my Scotch tape if I look away for so much as a second. They cannot be trusted.








Early guidance suggests that none of this will happen again this year. I've not dispensed with the critical pre-holiday planning stages, however. To my way of thinking, there’s nothing like the memory of a recently passed or about-to-be whiffed holiday to prompt progress toward the next time around. Women’s magazines advocate such an approach – buy Christmas wrap on December 26th and so forth – but I really feel that I’ve got the methodology down to an art. My procedure is as follows:

1. Six weeks before the day arrives, write a lengthy and elaborate list of projects to be completed. You might, for example, want to make your own wrappings out of quilting fabric or wish to potato-stamp bunny shapes on a hemp table runner. Maybe include both – there’s no need to be under-ambitious, I always say.
2. Purchase, recover from dusty underbed storage, or otherwise gather from the kids’ art bins the required supplies. If you require more than two adhesive products an angel gets her wings, so don’t be shy!
3. Pile said supplies on sideboard, end table or sofa, awaiting time (and energy) to use them.
4. Express gobsmacked shock as the holiday comes and goes while preparatory supplies go untouched on sideboard, end table or sofa. Wonder what you did with those 42 days, and then strike vague recall of unarticulated expectations at both home and work having chipped away at what had seemed to be abundant leisure.
5. Find time (and energy) the week after the holiday when the rest of one’s colleagues and friends are recovering from festive excess to complete the projects because there’s no way those things (see Step 3) are going to be put back under the bed. Too crowded under there anyway, what with all the pipe cleaners and felt, and fabric paint leftover from prior years.

It’s simple, really. While to the rest of the world I will appear to be ever so late with my adorable beaded springtime napkin rings and wooden eggs decoupaged with butterflies, I maintain that, no, I am quite prepared for next year. Bring it, April 8, 2012. I’ll be ready for you.