Last year, we bought Liam a costume for Halloween. He had been saying for weeks that he wanted to be Optimus Prime. So I went and blew $20 on a cheaply made costume at Target two days before Halloween. Then on "dress-up day", he woke up and decided to be Dobby the House-Elf, and wore a pillowcase all day long. So much for that $20.
This year, I told the boys that I would buy exactly nothing for their costumes, but I would be happy to paint their faces. They chose characters, I slopped on some face-paint, and voila!
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| Darth Maul, Kittty, Savage Opress |
The night before, both boys decided to go to school as Harry Potter in the invisibility cloak (thus the sparkles). That night, before trick-or-treating with their cousins, they changed again into General Grevious & a skeleton (the invisibility cloaks morphed into capes).
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| Pirate Elizabeth, Corpse Bride, General Grevious and Skeleton Boy |
This giraffe was immune to the fact that everyone thought she was a boy, and once she figured out she could get candy just by looking cute, she forgot about being shy. Her "trick-or-treat" quickly turned into "choc-ate peez?"
I am so very blessed. And lucky. I look back at these pictures and hold the creative, unfettered fun of these kids as balm for my emotional exhaustion. I find myself holding them tighter every day, as others' tragedy highlights how tenuous this "normal" is.
Oliver Wendall Holmes is credited with saying, "Too many people die with the music still inside them."
My prayer is not for a long life, or an easy life, or a comfortable life. My prayer is for a full life, one that is noisy and joyful and creative. I don't want to be immune to the pain of others. I shudder to think that I may be jaded to the music, no matter how discordant it may be. I want to be vulnerable enough to let it out, and give my kids the passion and freedom to share theirs as well, for they are the harmony.
Please, God, don't let me die with the music still inside me. And may there always be 'choc-ate'.
Please.
