Every house needs one Easter bunny

I cried last week. It needed to happen. I’ve been happy so consistently that I was kind of due for a good cry. I didn’t have PMS or anything (sorry, TMI) (sorry, two acronyms in one sentence); I just had a big ole pity party that was essentially triggered by me being the Easter bunny.

Now you probably think I’m off my rocker, so allow me to explain.

Every house needs exactly one person who is responsible for making a huge deal out of holidays, birthdays, life’s small and big successes, etc. In our house, that person is me. I organize all the necessary gifts, decorations, outfits and parties to make a big deal out of every occasion.

Normally, it works out great for one person, and only one person, to be in charge of being Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, etc. - two or more and your children will need lots of counseling.

The problem is at the designated claus/fairy/bunny’s birthday, because you can’t be your own birthday fairy.

Here’s the thing: if we were living in the States, my mom, sister, or a girlfriend would be my birthday fairy. Overseas, my husband is my only birthday fairy option, but he’s not really the fairy type.

My husband enjoys that I make a big deal of life’s different celebrations, but on his own he doesn’t really care that such a grand ordeal be made of all of it. Ask him and he’ll tell you about how he’s had birthdays out at sea where he didn’t even realize it was his birthday until he wrote the date on something.

I should be familiar with this dynamic.  It’s the same one I grew up with. My mom plans fabulous celebrations down to the tiniest detail and shops for all the perfect gifts, clothes etc., and my dad shows up. He’s repeatedly told my sister and me that we would’ve been dressed in pillowcases and shower tongs with skullcaps on our heads if it weren’t for our mother. Everyone has a role, and it works.

Last week I asked if we could miss a work function to go to Rome this weekend for my birthday and my husband said no. He did want to go to Rome, but we couldn’t miss the work event, and attending it would cut too much into our Rome time; thus, no Rome. I said that was fine and then, after he went to sleep, I called and cried to my sister. I know when I’m having a pity party and need to get over it, and I knew my sister would accept my blubbering. (Thank you sister!)

Since then, the work event has been rescheduled and my awesome husband has us all booked and set for our trip to Rome. I told him about my cry and he thought it was pretty funny. He gets that I didn’t want to have to ask him to be my birthday fairy, and I learned it’s okay to express that I need to have one. I think we’ve agreed that he’ll cover this one event each year so long as I never ask him to be the Easter bunny, etc., etc… This works well because, as I mentioned earlier, you only really need one Easter bunny per household.