If nothing else, my life never fails to entertain.
Last weekend, a time that was one of the holiest growing up, took on a new meaning, a much more eventful one.
Gone are the days of stuffy ties, dress pants and church sermons at St. Charles Church in Burlington.
No offense to religion (I attended St. Charles from K-8 and my mom still attends church regularly), but I have a new religion in my life – Coraline Rose Ramczyk.
No worries, I still love you, St. Chuck’s.
The little sprout, Coraline, has officially made it to 22 months, and on Saturday, March 26, my wife and I, along with my parents, sister and my wife’s cousins, found out the REAL definition of parenting.
It started with a 9 a.m. Easter Egg Hunt at St. Peter’s Church in Spring Grove, Ill., the stomping grounds of baby Hugo, my wife’s six-month-old cousin who Coraline calls “Go-go.”
Like any encouraging parental figure would, I helped her to pick up eggs and said “Put them in your basket” as quietly as I could as egg-hungry parents with older children swarmed.
A quiet, small event, Spring Grove’s hunt was perfectly relaxed for how early it was.
I had blood drawn at Aurora Memorial Hospital in Burlington for the first time at 7:45 a.m. that morning, after a rough night of no food for 12 hours and maybe five hours of sleep.
The plan was to return the half mile home and jump back in bed, but I happened to see my wife and Coraline driving.
What kind of dad would I be if I missed my daughter’s first egg hunt?
So I hopped in, no pun intended, and we drove the 30 minutes down to the “other” state.
Children laughed, cried, competed for eggs and took photos with a man in an Easter Bunny costume.
Coraline enjoyed watching the other kids go wild, but by the time we got close to Ol’ Floppy, it was eyes closed on daddy’s shoulder (cliché “awww” goes here).
After some cute pictures with Hugo and Cora, some tasty brownies and coffee in the church and many yawns, it was off to Lake Geneva for a 10:30 hunt.
I convinced my parents and sister, all Burlington residents, to make the 20-minute trek.
Parking in that city doesn’t allow you to be on time for things, so I jogged while holding Cora, naturally, to get us in position.
When the whistle blew, Coraline was clearly overmatched by the older kids, you know, the ones who can actually eat hard candy.
But I was a proud papa when my daughter grabbed her first egg, and instead of ravenously opening for the Tootsie Roll, she decided to place the egg in another kid’s basket.
“Here you go,” she said.
She left with one egg, because the nice mother gave it back to Cora, and it made my day.
By this time, we were running into family, old friends and even old colleagues. It turned into a talking fest, something I engage in too often, while Coraline allowed a Great Dane dog wearing bunny ears to slobber her face.
She loves dogs, but none more than our beagle Olive.
Our leadership by example rubbed off on my sister, who suggested we finish the day at the Lyons Fire Department Easter Egg Hunt.
My sister’s boy is seven months older than Coraline, so they’re peas in a pod.
Of course we said yes, and our further shenanigans had us requesting volunteer workers to throw on some more pancakes at the Lyons Fire Department pancake breakfast.
We were beyond famished.
But first was the indoor (despite a beautiful 55-degree, sunny day) egg hunt, featuring hay and fire trucks.
Whatever eggs we collected, people were asked to remove the candy and return the plastic eggs to a large sack for the following hunts (they were divided in three age groups).
That was daddy’s job.
By their third hunt in four hours, Coraline and Luke were full-blown egg hunters, helping each other out and preventing falls in the thick mess of hay.
Both cousins were past the fear, games and trickery, and they figured out you actually need to pick up the egg and place it in your basket, then proceed to walk and seek more goodies.
It was amazing, and the perils of the world, big and small, took a back seat for five glorious hours.
We finished the day with plates upon plates of scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage links and orange juice as my mom ran into at least five old friends, ones she’s “known her whole life.”
It was a hoot watching my family light up as they met new people, and the kids were borderline leaping with excitement most, I repeat, most, of the day.
The next day involved Easter parties with both families, another late night, and the icing on the cake was
finding out Tuesday my cholesterol, triglyceride and blood sugar levels need to go down.
It’s cool, I’m only 33, so I have plenty of time to sob slowly past McDonald’s and not buy any food, even though it’s across the street from my office.
Also, softball season is coming up in a few weeks, so hopefully I’ll be playing Tuesdays in Milwaukee and Fridays in Lake Geneva as much as humanly possible.
The bright side is I’ve had only one coffee, one soda, a Burlington Cousins submarine sandwich and a salad for dinner Tuesday, as I labor away at my keyboard on deadline.
Dieting for one day is still dieting, right?
The adventure is over, but this weekend brings a whole new holiday, my wife’s birthday.
Maybe Coraline will give mommy an Easter egg for the occasion.
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