MOM INTERRUPTED: Passion: It's what's for Easter

Spring is, well, springing and Easter is almost upon us, so you'll understand perfectly when I say that this month's entry is all about mornings at our house, since they appear to be nothing so much as a three-hour effort to raise the dead.

It's not a religious experience, but it certainly is passionate. And loud. We fervently invoke the deity. We remember to include many of the key elements: There's your washing of feet. At least, the kids say they're up there taking showers. The water's running. The hot water is gone. I have discovered, though, that boys will turn the water on so it will sound like they're actually rinsing off all that dirt, but they're really just sprinkling their sisters' makeup all over the sink while the meter spins.

My hands are certainly clean, however, because I wash them of the whole mess every morning: "Fine. Lie there. I won't take anyone to school, you'll fail all your classes, and it will be all your fault."

Easter Week features The Last Supper. At our house, that would be more like Breakfast at the Last Minute. But we remember to include the important features: predictions of doom, finger pointing and, thanks to the Great Oatmeal & Cornflakes Unpleasantness of 2006, there's a lovely fresco commemorating it on the kitchen wall (Note: I haven't taken to drinking wine in the mornings, yet).

There's the constant threat of betrayal: "MOM! Cole still hasn't gotten up!" Or, more popular: "Sam still hasn't shown you his math test! He failed it again!"

Kids are stripped of their garments at least once every week: "No. You can't wear SpongeBob Squarepants pajamas to school!"

We even re-create the miracle of Veronica and the veil: "I keep telling you. If you don't wash your face first you'll just rub everything all over the towel! Now go do it again! And this time use soap!"

And why meet the daughters of Jerusalem when you can have a protracted text message conversation with them while you're brushing your teeth, even though you're going to see them in 15 minutes?

No nails are involved, but I've often wondered what it would take to get you to remember your lunch...staple it to your shirt?

We help each other carry our burdens, though perhaps not with the same grace as Simon, because this is absolutely the last time I'm helping you make a papier-mâché map of Virginia for your school assignment at 4 a.m. the day it's due.

We meet family members on the way. We have conference calls (we all shout it in the hallway at the same time). We have performance reviews: "Do you realize that we have not left the house on time once in three years?" We have discussions about astrophysics: "If I have to tell you to put on clean pants one more time I'm putting you in orbit!"

Mercifully, I've never had to carry out my promise to carry a kid out to the car in their Underoos if they won't get ready to go. And no passionate re-enactment would be complete without coming back later to find an empty garage with the door hanging open.

Passion: It's what's for Easter. Have a joyous one!

Ahwatukee Foothills resident Elizabeth Evans can be reached at elizabethann40@hotmail.com. Her column appears monthly.