Monday, October 18, 2010

Monday memory: Halloween

So Meg has been insisting she wants to be a kitty cat ballerina for Halloween this year. However since she has also wanted to be just a cat or a ballerina or a butterfly, we are waiting another week to see if the choice is solid.

Halloween really sucked last year for us. This is probably pretty normal since it was the first one without Drew. Fortunately Meg was trick-or-treating with a bunch of friends and their parents and so we could stay home and cry instead of taking her around. Meg had a blast. Hopefully this year will be better, but the group trick-or-treating is still happening so we don't have to go if we can't. I've been knitting my husband a Totoro hat for him to wear if we go. I have no idea what I would wear for a costume.

On Meg and Drew's first Halloween they were about 10 months. So we dressed them in these onesies and stayed home and answered the door. I remember that the neighborhood identical twins stopped by and I was proud to point out we had twins as well.

The second Halloween I wanted to take them trick-or-treating. We tried. We made it as far as next door. They enjoyed handing out the candy to kids who stopped by. Meg wouldn't wear her wig, but wore it for dress up for the rest of the year.

The third Hallloween they were two and half. They finally got it. We made it around the block despite it being cold, wet and windy. I figured this was the last time I could dress them up in identical outfits so I was enjoying it. These are the outfits mentioned in this memory.

Last year since Drew was gone, I couldn't bear to pick out a costume and Meg has her own strong opinions about clothing, so I let her pick stuff from her dress up collection. She called herself a "cowgirl princess." She had a blast trick-or-treaing and eating the candy afterwards.

Hopefully this year we will be easier for us. Meg is already stating that she wishes that it could be Halloween today. I'm not so sure.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Monday memory: the mall

Grief is an odd creature. It likes to sneak up on you and hit you with a wave of sadness unexpectedly.

We went to the mall in a neighboring bigger town Saturday. We go there fairly regularly. The mall has most of the clothing stores my husband and I like to shop at and a play area. Meg always wants to go to the play area. So we go there first and then my husband and I take turns shopping while the other one watches Meg.

This time the playground was full of little boys. Little boys about Meg's age, which of course means I began to wonder about Drew and what he would be doing now. It is odd that this bothered me particularly since Meg does go to preschool, where there are lots of little boys her age as well. Meg of course did notice I was upset and came over to give me a hug and I told her as I do in these situations that I was sad because I missed Drew.

Thank goodness for the distraction of knitting. I had brought a paid of Meg's socks to knit. Otherwise I would have done some major crying in public, again. Not that I really care if I cry in public, but it is a bit awkward.

We have been going to this play area for quite awhile. I remember going there and having them crawl on the mats before they could walk. I remember the first time they were old enough to climb in the slide/ball pit area and they would only do it holding onto one of our hands. I remember early potty training where one of them would need to use the potty just as we had arrived (and of course the potty was a ways away from there) I remember going there just for the distraction during long winter days during break and it being so busy Meg wasn't interested in playing in the slide area but Drew was.

I guess the places that are filled with memories of Drew will always have an ability to hit the grief button at any moment. Perhaps it will wear of eventually, we'll see.