“Mommy, Mommy! Stop! Go baaaack, baaaack… THERE!” Georgia, tethered to the grocery cart, was pointing to the princess eggs amidst the overflowing Easter offerings. Only $9.99 for a dozen vacuum-packed plastic eggs filled with such treasures as tiny coloring sheets and small crayons, stickers, larger coloring sheets and larger crayons, and a cardboard panel with a princess picture on it, coyly concealing who knows what -- perhaps another sticker, or maybe just more plastic and cardboard. Georgia, remembering our recent No Begging Rule, wistfully said, “I wish I could have that someday... isn’t it beautiful?”

“Hmmm," I said, diplomatically. "Remember the princess band aids? They were very disappointing. And the princess flashlight stopped working before you even had a chance to play with it. I’m starting to feel mistrustful of princess stuff.”

“But Mommy, really, it’s so pretty! I wish I could have it someday. Do you think someday I will be able to?”

I hedged, gambling that she’d forget the eggs once we went to another aisle. “Easter is coming soon, and you never know what you might find in your Easter Basket!”

Alas, there were princessy pitfalls in almost every aisle, and the rest of our shopping endeavor sounded a little like this: “Mommy! Stop! Go baaaack, THERE! Do you think I might find a mermaid play set in my Easter Basket?”

"Mommy! Stop! Go baaaack, THERE! A princess ball! Do you think I might find that in my Easter Basket?”

Poor Georgia. To her consumer-frenzied mind, I knew no one item would make a significant impression -- only that she would go home longing for some kind of plastic-wrapped princess paraphenelia.

I went back to the store by myself later to see if there was anything I could score for Georgia’s Easter Basket that didn’t go against everything the Momster is supposed to stand for. I want our Easter to represent a connection to the Earth, a joyous holiday with perhaps more of a pagan than religious bent. Bunnies and eggs and tulips and grass may signify renewal, but I am finding it harder to accept plastic grass and plastic eggs and plastic-wrapped commercial-tie-in items that have nothing to do with the sense of wonder upon discovering that the Earth is coming around again.

Oh well. I got the princess ball and some Cadbury Caramel Eggs (less packaging!). I felt a little bad passing by the princess egg extravaganza, though I knew she had forgotten them.

I also got a dozen real eggs (cage-free, grain fed!) to color. Georgia’s Granddad tells a story about how his mother, a kind and resourceful woman, used to boil eggs in onionskins for Easter. Every year Granddad saves all of the skins from the onions and for Easter he boils eggs and the skins together in a big pot. When the eggs come out they are a beautiful shade of reddish brown. If you polish them with vegetable oil they glisten. Last year I saved onionskins too, and we boiled up the eggs with the skins, and Georgia was impressed. This year she wants “more colors” and though I found lots of fun ideas [1] for using other foods for dyes, I couldn’t get in touch with my inner Martha or justify buying beets we won’t eat, or using spinach we would eat, just for a few boiled eggs. Maybe sometime for a big Easter party. And even though I was pretty sure I could use plain old food coloring and vinegar, I gave a nod to my family tradition and got the same kind of old-fashioned egg dye from my childhood, with the wire egg dipper and punch-out egg drying tray built into the package.

Now that I’m a Momster, it’s hard for me to cut through the commercialism and try to find a way to have fun with holidays. Before Georgia was born, Hova and I just didn’t do much, but with Georgia as delighted recipient, we embrace our chance to hide the eggs and Easter Basket and eat chocolate.

So we’ll try to keep things simple, and make it meaningful for us. We’ll reuse the same Easter Basket that was mine when I was a girl. I thought I could forgo the “grass” but there’s a good reason for all that filler: without it, you need a ton of stuff to fill the basket! I want to tie-dye and hem a flowing scarf to nestle all the goodies on, one that Georgia can reuse for dress up. But, since I don’t think I’ll actually get that accomplished, I’ll probably shred some Sunday funnies. I’ll fill her basket with flower seed packets, some new sidewalk chalk, some yummy natural jellybeans [2] (without high fructose corn syrup!), the caramel egg, one beautiful fair trade [2] chocolate bunny, and the princess ball. We will boil some eggs in onionskins, brown in honor of the earth and Medz-mire (Armenian for grandmother), and dye some bright colors in honor of flowers and fun. And we'll have an egg hunt to help us marvel at spring.