The Pressure of Modern Holidays
When did every holiday become such a big deal? Halloween sees animated skeletons waving from garage roofs, bucket loads of sweets on every surface, and expertly-carved pumpkins on the porch (preferably handpicked by you). Christmas apparently needs matching family pyjamas, Christmas Eve boxes, and an obligatory Winter Wonderland visit. All of this is an ominous sign that the work of modern parenting is never done.
Now, even Easter has arrived with similar pomp and ceremony. One hyped-up season kicks off as soon as the last one is wrapped up. I first noticed Easter bunny ornaments – with one as big as my seven-year-old – put up weeks ago in February. But I’m grumpy, tired, and the Easter holidays have begun (translation: two weeks of juggling limited childcare and work).
So I’ve decided to commit to a list of things I will not be doing this Easter. If you’re a parent reading this, take it as your sign not to feel bad about it. Take this as your excuse not to succumb to the relentless pressure and commodification of family traditions (unless you love all the additional unpaid work that comes with these occasions, in which case fill your boots!).
Decorations Inside and Outside the House
Just like Christmas, it now seems the norm to put rabbits, lambs, eggs, and daffodils all over your front garden as it nears Easter. To even erect ‘Easter trees’ with tiny eggs dangling off.
Last year, I gave in and bought a giant Easter rabbit in the TK Maxx sale. But unfortunately, he has subsequently gone missing (stuffed in the back of a cupboard somewhere, which I’ll inevitably discover when looking for Halloween decor come October). This is one of the problems with seasonal decorations – once the moment is done, where do they all live? We don’t have any storage space in our small house.
I don’t think we should feel compelled to decorate our houses on top of everything else. I also don’t mind if these Easter decorations are ones that kids themselves have made because they enjoy doing such things. Yes, you’re right, I’d be a total killjoy otherwise.
Money saved: £50.
‘Tablescaping’
The word “tablescaping” was (according to the internet) coined in the 1960s by British designer David Hicks, who defined it as “objects on stands connected in some way by texture, colour, or interest — tablescapes are not haphazard; it is the discipline of selection”. Fast forward 60 years and I’m being bombarded by thousands of images of Easter-themed dining tables every time I open social media.
I am not an interior designer, and I’d argue that as a working mum who is navigating menopause, two kids, and four cats, I don’t have enough space in my brain to apply “discipline” to the ornaments on my table. The idea that most parents have the bandwidth and funds to “dress your table” in a themed Easter way… well, it’s beyond me.
I’m just hoping I can find the giant rabbit for Easter Sunday and if I can’t, I’ll put the giant Halloween skeleton on the table instead.
Money saved: £50.
Expensive Egg Hunts in Bougie Places
This year, Hampton Court is doing an Easter Egg Hunt with a giant Lindt bunny prize. I haven’t even bothered checking to see how much it costs because the words “Hampton Court Easter Egg Hunt” alone tell you all you need to know.
I don’t remember growing up with organised egg hunts. We’d have been given a Crunchie or Dairy Milk Easter egg (the buttons that came with a mug) and that was it. We’d go to church – my Gran was Catholic – eat some of the eggs and save the rest in the fridge door. That was it.
For my own children, I will concede and put a few eggs in the garden (avoiding the fox poo), but the whole thing will be wrapped up in about 30 seconds because the garden isn’t massive and they aren’t hard to find. And as for Easter eggs, they will be purchased on Easter Sunday morning from a local Tesco (and hopefully heavily discounted).
Money saved: £100+.
Luxury Easter Eggs
This leads nicely onto premium Easter eggs. You know the ones that are stuffed with pistachios, coated in gold, nestled in caviar and made from 70 per cent cocoa. I won’t be buying these. I don’t know anyone who buys these either. Isn’t chocolate chiefly for kids? Actually, I’ve just thought about that, and realised that if you aren’t a parent, then of course you want a luxury Easter egg to scoff on the sofa. Although maybe avoid the £75 eggs.
Money saved by not doing this for my whole family: £150.
Easter Bonnets
No time. Little point.
Money saved: under £50 but mainly saving my sanity in not making them.
Easter Lunch
I love a nice roast as much as the next woman, but there is sometimes a lot of pressure to have a very specific type of Easter lunch. Unless it’s your family tradition, or you’re religious, you don’t need to feel pressured into buying a £30 joint of lamb and should just eat what you want.
If that’s lasagna or if it’s KFC out of a bucket watching Bridgerton… well that’s fine.
Money saved: £100.
Limited Edition Hot Cross Buns
I am a bit traditional and really just want one that is a hot cross bun, and not a cross between a pavlova and a bun or an Eton mess hot cross combo. I did, however, like the lemon curd one from M&S, so maybe limited edition hot cross buns can come off the list of things I won’t be engaging with this year. Maybe this is the slippery slope where enjoying all the Easter frippery begins.
Money saved: £20.
