By Every Family’s Got One Guest Writer — Emily Gaffney
Growing up with an early model “DIY” crafty mother, I got to witness the pursuit of craft perfection on a regular basis. No holiday or event was too small or insignificant for Mom not to break out the glue gun and summon her technical talent.
Easter was one of her favorites; not because Baby Jesus was front and center in our lives, but because this annual celebration held massive decorating opportunity…
a veritable mecca for a true crafty mom.
Several weeks before Ham Sunday, Mom would put the newspaper down and set up the color stations… little bowls filled with food dye and vinegar.
Mom could create awesome color combinations … unlimited pastel hues and tones. Without intervention from the master crafter, the result for us kids was mostly shades of brown…
Crayola “burnt sienna.”
Before dying, we’d split the eggs into two groups; one for hard boiling, the other for blowing.
Group #1 was kid-friendly – dip, dunk, and swirl. Group #2 was reserved for the artist… a clean pinprick in each end of the egg and Mom would masterfully blow the insides out… the whites first with relative ease…
and then, like a mother giving birth…
the thick yellow yolk would squeeeeze through that tiny pinhole and dribble into the bowl… a dye-defying feat that Mom managed with ease. Perforation perfection.
Despite knowing it would end in tears, she always let me blow an egg – sometimes resulting in a small victory with a tiny hole at either end.
Holding gently…
between thumbs and forefingers, I’d give a “slow even blow” (per Mom). With puffed cheeks, veined forehead, and popped eyeballs, the egg would burst and frustration would ensue… Many a tear was shed at the egg table.
Every once in a while, I’d score a modified victory by chipping away at a hole big enough for the insides to just plop into the bowl.
Somewhere along the line…
Mom started prepping the blow-holes with clear nail polish – a game changer.
Full of self-pride for eliminating the insides and dunking that one little sucker in burnt sienna, I could sit back, eat the hard-boiled eggs, and watch the master at work.
Going far beyond basic dying…
Mom would carefully carve out a 1.5 x 2 portal in the front of each barren egg (a feat never attempted by myself).
She could then engage her full-on crafting expertise.
Mom’s supplies included…
cotton balls, teeny plastic lambs, trees, Easter baskets and bunnies…. fingernail scissors, tweezers, clear nail polish, Saran wrap, zigzag hem tape, velvet ribbon, tiny pearls (for the bases), and the ever-present glue gun.
Mom’s laser focus…
sharp eyes, and steady hands would yield exquisite results; expertly created mini-masterpieces worthy of Faberge… teeny Norman Rockwell scenes showing happy lambs and bunnies hunting for eggs under billowing fields of cotton and shady trees.
I could imagine myself living among the teeny plastic animals in the soft and gentle world created by Mom… everything safe and protected.
With age…
I came to understand that Mom’s eggs were a precursor for good things to come… that within a few short days, I’d be stuffing myself with candy and eating ham and scalloped potatoes off our best china.
The whole family would partake in the festivities around the dining room table, and Mom’s expertly crafted eggs would garner…
ohhhh’s and awe as the centerpiece.
Throughout the years, Mom graduated from eggs to shells, and became a sustained member of our local Arts Association in recognition of her beautifully constructed “Sailor’s Valentines”.
At 92…
and with weakened hands that can barely hold a pen, she’s not quite the crafter she use to be, but I bet if I pulled that glue gun out, her eyes would light up and she’d find something to DIY.
This story was previously published on 50 Shades of Aging.
Emily Gaffney is a baby-booming, empty nester who’s living life-on-hold while caring for her 92-year-old mother (Right.Next.Door.) She writes, with humor, about the emotional baggage that often accompanies caretaking an aging parent. Her writing has been featured on Menopausal Mother, Blunt Moms, Better After 50 and Medium. Find Emily (and Mom) at her website 50 Shades of Aging and on Facebook.
What a beautiful memory and loved reading about your mother’s craftiness here today, especially with her eggs at Easter 🙂
such great memories!!
We agree, Ronni!! Can’t help but smile.