Our Easter eggs have zebra acne

Chuck and I just got done hiding the eggs. I have no idea how many we hid, nor do I remember exactly where we hid them, which means in a month or so we'll have no problem getting rid of lingering guests.

I like Easter, but it snuck up on me this year, as did preparing for it. Junior's basket is decidedly humble, and besides one pastel egg tree, I didn't put much out. I'm a connoisseur of magazines and they were brimming with catchy Easter creatures to concoct (Easter bunnies made with pink pipe cleaners, tampons and glitter? Great idea, Martha!) and various ways to wow my guests, but every time I started reading them I—yawn—couldn't quite—yawn—get into it.

I blame the children.

I spent Thursday morning as teacher's helper in Junior's nursery school. We helped 25 four year olds make Easter baskets from old milk containers. I was in charge of helping them glue on cotton tails, stick on whiskers, draw on faces, and affix ears. In case you've never been to hell it sounds like this:

"I don't want my bunny's ears there! I want them THERE. No, not THERE. THERE!"

"I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail. My tail fell off. I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail."

"You dress funny."

"I HATE craft time!"

"I have a cat at home. Do you have a cat? Does it have a name? My cat's name is Mark. My uncle is Mark. Does your cat sleep? My cat eats."

"I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail. My tail fell off. I need a tail. I need a tail. I need a tail."

"His basket is bigger than mine!"

"I don't want my bunny's tail there! I want it THERE. No, not THERE. THERE!"

I have never craved grain alcohol so desperately. Every brain cell ached.

It still does.

But that's ok. It's all ok. It doesn't matter that there isn't an overflowing Easter basket for Junior. It doesn't matter that our colored eggs are riddled with animal-patterned acne and encased in electrical wire. We don't need opulence. We don't need smiling, pink bunnies peeking out of every crevice to celebrate life, family and holiday. If you think about it, we need so very little exposure to young children to be happy.

Oops, that last sentence is the bunny tail talking.

Hold me! It was frightful!

I need help. No fooling

Can you share your infinite wisdom with me? I'll publish the best answers. You'll be famous.

Sort of.

1. How do I lube my lizard?

I'm a terrible mother. I haven't taken a lot of pictures of Diddlydoo because he is... hopelessly flaky. Everywhere. His head. His cheeks. His back. The people in the Head and Shoulders commercials have nothing on him. And I hardly bathe him. I worry if I submerge him in water, he'll dissipate.

At Chuck's urging, I took him to the pediatrician.

"He's so crusty!" I told the doctor.

The doctor examined him. "I'd say he's more scaly, actually. He's got the skin of a 90-year-old man!"

(That's one for the baby books.)

So I ask you, what do you do for seriously dry skin? The doctor said to slather Diddly in moisturizer, but is there a mega moisturizer out there for babies that you swear by? Baby oil hasn't worked, except to make Diddly flaky and greasy.

2. How do I tone my tuckus?

I can finally get into my pre-pregnancy jeans. If I stand still, I actually look halfway decent (ok, one-third). The problem is, as soon as I move, everything globs and bobs around. I feel like a shape-shifting sausage link. And forget muffin top. I'm haulin' the whole fricken bakery above my waistline. I have to do something about it.

I'd love to start jogging with Diddly but what do I do about Junior? He hates to walk, but he's too big for a stroller.

So I ask you, how do you exercise with a baby and a 40-pound pre-schooler? Do I piggy-back him while pushing the stroller? Is there some kind of hat he can sit in atop my head?

3. How do I kill Chuck?
Instead of helping me feed Diddly in the middle of the night, Chuck rolls over, rubs his eyes and asks, "Is there anything I can do?" It's not actually a question; it's more of a mid-snore afterthought. The lack of initiative is what enrages me most. I've considered clobbering him with the baby bottle, but that's messy.

So I ask you, what's the quickest and easiest way to off a loved one?

And finally:

4. How do I boil an egg?

I'm, uh, serious here. My lack of egg boiling ability has prevented me from making egg salad (gasp, no!) and from celebrating Easter in typical fashion. Junior has to dye raw potatoes. I know it should be really, really easy to hardboil an egg, but the eggs always crack, or they're not cooked thoroughly.

Please, can you help?