Hearing News

October 3rd came and went, and I did not feel any sort of urge or need to write. So I didn't. However, I enjoyed other people's remembrances of Andrew. And I made a comment on some blogs and thought I might turn it into my own little post. I feel like writing now. So I will.

Whenever I hear other people's memories and stories of Andrew, in some strange way, it's like hearing news of him again. Even if some of the things they say are things I already knew about. When Liane mentioned the little voice that whispers, " That's enough now. No one wants to hear this stuff again", I knew what she was talking about. I think everyone deals with that at one time or other, regarding the loss of someone who was so dear that the loss has become a defining part of ones' life. You don't want people to sigh, be tired of it, treat as trite something that is so painfully precious. But, at the same time, I am also certain that anyone who ever knew Andrew will want to hear news of him. Remembering these things among each other is how we do that.

Brad and I were talking recently and he mentioned an interesting phenomenon about dates. For instance, he might hear about something in the news with a date attached to it, like the war in Iraq starting in 2003. Or maybe he thinks, when did this book come out? Oh, 2002. Or, when did I work there? 2004? When did I fly there? 2001? When was this movie made? 2005? He was saying that whenever he hears a recent date, within the past seven or eight years or so, he always automatically thinks, "Was Andrew alive then?" It's not a big deal. Not that it makes anything good or bad. I guess it's just a mental habit, this Andrew timeline. But it amazed me to hear him say that because I do exactly the same thing when I hear dates. It's like everything gets sorted into two piles - before October 3rd, 2004 and after that day. I guess it's my frame of reference for this decade, and perhaps for the rest of my life.

I have my own odd little kitchen memory too. I can't remember whether it was the day before he died or about six weeks before, but he was at our apartment for a family gathering, and he had a paper cup he was using. Instead of writing his own name on it to distinguish it from the crowd, he wrote a weird joke name. I just went and looked at it in my cupboard. I keep it with the candles and the mugs I don't use, and I have a little note in it saying, "Please don't throw this cup away." I was just showing it to Brad and we cannot remember how the joke was started or really what it was about. I just keep the cup with his writing on it.

Nothing earthshattering. Just wanted to write.

"The Irony" or " The Best Laid Seat Covers..."

I got a marvelous gift from Penny at my baby shower, about a year ago. It's a grocery cart seat cover so that Aiden can sit in the front part of the cart when I shop, and be protected from all the nasty germs/bacteria/viruses that generally inhabit those things. My germaphobic heart rejoiced to receive such a gift. It covers pretty much every surface of the front of the cart and it's beautiful. I just recently started using it because he can now sit up by himself ( Hurray!) which is great because I was getting pretty tired of putting his carseat in the back of the cart, and thereby having very little room in the cart to put groceries.

So yesterday I went to Sam's Club to pick up a couple items and I used the cart cover...except the carts at Sam's are just like everything else at that esteemed establishment - sized for Jabba the Hutt. So the cover didn't exactly fit. But, no matter. I'm flexible. I can deal with these little discrepancies. I put Aiden in the cart, did my shopping, paid, and left. As I walked out into the parking lot and looked around to make sure we weren't walking into the path of any oncoming vehicles, my attention was distracted from Aiden for a few seconds. When I looked down at him, I could not believe my eyes. He was leaning over, almost prone in the seat, SUCKING on the exposed part of the side of the cart, not covered by the too-small seat cover. AAAAUGH! I was horrified and amused at the same time.

Figures.

Aiden, 1. Control Freak Mother Claire, 0.

This and That

I haven't really written much for a while so I'm just going to throw out some flotsam and jetsam paragraphs about what's been going on of late.

Right now, Brad is driving around looking for a gas station with some gas. He's been to several and can't find any. He had to come home and put the lawnmower gas in the vehicle and then go back out to look for more because he was so low on gas. Ayeyeyaye!

I cut my hair. Short. My hair has been falling out for awhile - which I hear is a normal postpartum thing. I thought it would have stopped by now - he was born nine months ago, for Pete's sake, how long will I keep losing hair?!- and for a while I was worried that my thyroid meds needed adjustment. I consulted my doctor, got the bloodwork done, and lo, the thyroid was fine... so I guess it was just good old weird hormones or whatever. It seems like with hair falling out, and thus less hair to deal with, it would have been an easier thing to handle... but instead, it was just turning into a big hassle and a worse scraggly mess than usual and I wanted to hack it OFF. So I did. Well- I didn't, but a woman in a salon did. Over ten inches of it. I've never had it this short before. And I donated it to Locks Of Love - an organization that makes wigs for people - and so the whole haircut was FREE! ( except for the tip, of course.) Woohoo! . Penny and Aiden came with me; Penny to get her hair cut too, and Aiden to charm everyone's socks off in the salon. I kept on bursting out into laughter afterwards because it just felt so different and every time I passed a mirror it was startling. Brad is not too thrilled with my shorn look, and I am sorry for that... but I just feel like a calf released from the stall. And of course, it will grow back. Never fear. I know some people feel sad and regretful after cutting their hair. Not me. I'm SO happy with it.

You can see pictures on Flickr. I don't really have a true "after" picture up yet. The one I do have, my hair is all straight and un-me. They blowdry it flat afterwards and I don't look right. I'll have to put up a real one asap.

The other day, I had Aiden with me when I went to work with Philip. Aiden very regretfully went down for a nap and when he woke up a while later, I went in to get him and held him on my lap while I read to Philip. A couple minutes later, I suddenly noticed that both of Aiden's legs were stuck in one pant leg. I can't believe how unobservant I was! I don't know how long it was like that - or how it happened. Did he do that himself? Or did I do it the last time I changed his diaper? I started laughing, and picked him up to show Philip, who started laughing too. We both laughed so hard that Aiden got a little scared, I think.