More. Just more.

Sleep hasn't come easily since Friday  I am having a hard time not inserting myself in the tragedy - A hard time separating my life from the lives of others.

It's not that I'm scared.  I'm not.  I haven't felt worry during the school day - I'm not any more cautious today than last week.  Seriously.  If it is going to happen, sadly, there is little or nothing I can do to stop it.  And I don't believe it will mostly because who DOES believe it will?  Who thinks that way?  It's a horror beyond horror and can stop a person from functioning.  Living in terror is no way to live. 

But, I'm having a hard time not putting myself there - I keep inserting myself.  In the dark hours of the day, I keep inserting myself, my students, and my child.   I can't sleep soundly.   I think of the horror of trying to keep children safe.  And I think of those poor little souls' horror as they waited and listened and cried for their mamas.  I keep feeling how scared they were.   They died.  Nobody could save them. They were killed.  Sweet, sweet babies.  Each one of them innocent. 

I know I could step in front of a bullet for any child.  That doesn't concern me. I could.  What keeps me awake is the thought of their terror.  I see these little faces.  And in those faces I am imagining,  I see the faces of my students - They trust me so much. These little people spend more awake hours with me than they do their parents.  I spend more awake time with them than I do with my own child.  These little people that are so sure I love them and can keep them safe.  I can not stand the thought of them terrified for their lives.  How horrible it must have been to be a teacher to those 20 sweet and innocent children - The person standing in place of their parents.  I often remind myself that each one of the children in my class is someones Eli.  The center of someones world.  I know I could do whatever I could to protect them.  What keeps me awake is - Could I give them comfort in that moment?  Could I ease their terror?  Would my presence ease the fear just a bit?  How could I comfort all of them at once?  How could I be for them what I'd want someone to be for Eli in sucha  horrible moment? 

So, I watch my students walk down the hall to get a drink or use the bathroom and I imagine those kids in Newtown.  Those poor, sweet kids.  And I know how their teachers felt. I think I know anyway.  Only, I hope I'll never really know.  I hope and pray (yes, even in school) that I will never be called upon to comfort a child in their darkest hour.  I hope I will never see a child die. I do not know how I could survive that. 

I am a parent too.

Being a mother,  I can't help but insert myself as a parent in the horror.  I can't say that I am loving Eli more in light of the hell that has been endured.   Nor am I  holding him closer. I know what I have and I always have known what I have.  He is my gift - A gift I am barely worthy of.   I love him so deeply it scares me.  Sometimes I can't remember where I end and he begins.  I can't separate my life from his.  He's at the age, I know, where he needs me so deeply and I am so ever present in every moment of every day.  An age where sometimes I wish he would be able to step away from me for just a moment.  He needs me in every aspect right now.    But, his need for me won't end in a year or two or more.   I know that too.   I will love him like this always and he will need me like this always.  No more tomorrow than today.  No more today than yesterday.  I love him until I ache and I have since we came together. Sometimes this love makes me cry in joy or sorrow or fear.   I am not special, though.  I love him like all mothers love their child.  I love him fierce and gentle.  Angry and forgiving.  Wild and calm.  I love him more than my life.  It's this love that keeps me from sound sleep right now.

It's this love that means I can't help but insert myself there - In the role of parent who doesn't know and is terrified and searching.  I insert myself as a parent who loses it all and has to decide how to lift her head and walk forward.  The horror is too much.  I'm no more special than any other mother - Nobody out there is chosen because she can handle it.  Nobody thinks this is a load they can bear. 

It can be any single one of us.  At any single time.  And then what?  Then what?  How?

Then grace finds us, if we're lucky.   If it has to.

Please, God.  Not me. 

Here's what I know - I will sleep soundly again.  Someday soon, I will pull my blanket up to my chin and turn on my side and drift off easily. I will fall asleep blissfully again as my interruption is only temporary.    That day will come sooner for me than for others who are broken tonight. I will sleep as soundly as I possibly can since becoming a mother.  It's not as soundly as I once did because before Eli I didn't have the world to lose.   Some parents will never close their eyes again without seeing their child because those parents have lost the world.  They will see their child's fear - Someday they may be lucky to close their eyes and see their smiles.   I know there are mothers out there that are tonight who are wondering about their child's last minute.   I am awake because I can't stop thinking of mothers who have had to say goodbye far too early.  Mothers who right now are on their knees - Broken. 

And God forgive me.  Tonight, I am so thankful I am not that mother.

And I pray I never will be.   

More Later...

It was my grand intention to avoid all things "hot topic" or "political" in this blog.  But, the senseless killing of chilren and teachers and ensuing things I am reading and seeing may drive me there.

I am going to school soon.  An elementary school.  Public school.  And you know who is coming with me?  My God.  And you know who is coming with my 21 students? Their God.  Their truth.

 I will not stop them in line and ask them to leave God behind. 

No, I won't lead them in prayer.  Why would I?  Why should I?  This is a public school and they are young.  So very young.  They have families that have faith and beliefs and I honor each one of them.  Just as I'd want my own honored.  So, no I will not lead them in prayer.

But, a God I believe in is kind and loving.  He does not stop at the door of the schools and wave his hands in defeat and say, "Well, they don't organize prayer in there.  I wash my hands of what happens."  Who would want to beleive in that God?

I will pray a thousand times today.  Help me find the patience.  Help me keep these kids safe.  Help me teach them.  Thanks for that laugh.  Thanks for this opportunity.  

My students will too - In their innocent and sweet way.   In a way that is right for them.

And I believe God loves that best of all.

So, when I read that violence happens in school because God isn't allowed there, I recoil.  And I get mighty disgusted.  He is allowed there.  He is most welcome.  And even if he wasn't - I do believe he'd still love us all the same. 

We Interrupt This Bad Ass Mood...

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true
And then while I'm away
I'll write home every day
And I'll send all my loving to you

I'll pretend that I'm kissing
The lips I am missing
And hope that my dreams will come true
And then while I'm away
I'll write home every day
And I'll send all my loving to you

All my loving, I will send to you
All my loving, darling I'll be true

The Beatles



The last two weeks with the Fuss were hard.  Like bring you to tears hard.  Something was going haywire and I didn't know what it was and I couldn't find it and I couldn't fix it.  So, man...We struggled.  He buckled at any form of correction.  He refused most every request.  He ranted.  He raged.

He was the Captain, you see.  And everyone needed to listen to him.  And when we didn't we were naughty.  And he was going to get us.  And he would be happy to rant and rage at you for 10  minutes or more to get his point across.  Plus the sound that makes my skin crawl was made often.  "Eeeeeehhhh" in a sassy and obstinate tone. 

He had a lot of grievances.  A lot. 

And he was unpleasant. 

And not particularly kind.

Nor patient. 

The Elf on the Shelf was not going to work because he (and I quote), "...didn't even ask for one!  You didn't even ask me if I wanted one!"  Plus, it was good the Elf was watching when he was ranting at me because, "He can tell Santa that you're being naughty and YOU won't get any presents!" 

And the worst of it all was how much he beat himself up for his three-ness.  In between the raging was a self-beating guilt ride.  He was a naughty boy.  He wasn't nice.  Nobody would want to be his friend.  He did bad things.  For sure the worst of the two weeks was how much he put on himself.

Plus, also, the worst was when I ran out of wine and he kept falling asleep in the car and I couldn't LEAVE him in the car to go get wine and there was no Single Mother With Sleeping Crab Ass Kid in Car wine store drive through where I could buy wine.  Marrieds - Count this as another perk - Someone to pick up wine or watch child while you go out for wine. 

And I missed my funny and happy little man and hoped he'd return soon.

And he did.  A lovely weekend with only normal tired, hungry, sassy stuff but  nothing that brought me to tears. Not even after a well meaning but much cursed fireman gave him a badge sticker and told him, "Now, you're the chief and you can tell you mom what to do today." 

Bad Fireman.  Bad.  Bad.  Bad. 

But, still.  He was lovely. 

Then tonight. Tonight I want to remember.  Tonight I was putting his sweet little self to bed after a night of cotton ball snowball fights where you declared over and over, "We're having a blast Mom!  This is a blast!"  And a night of two popsicles just because and when I let him have the second one he said, "Wow!  Thank you Mom!  You are my very best friend!"  And then snuggling and watching Rudolph where he gets just a little bit closer when Bumble is on and tells me he would really like the toys on the Island of Misfit toys especially the gun that shoots jelly because EVERYONE would love that cool thing. 

And then...All snuggled in sweetly with his puppy, two batman toys, a tape measure, his Knight sword, and four carefully selected books.  He asked me to sing him the closing his eyes song. 

So I did.  I sat  on a stool next to his bed and rubbed his head and sang.   And he smiled at me.  Just smiled.  He was his one year old self to me at that moment.  The sweet and simple toddler that I used to put in his crib and tell, "You is smart.  You is brave.  You is kind"  Yes.  I'd just read The Help and fancied myself Minnie.

But, it was that sweet little honey of a smile and he moved me to tears.  Well, not literally.  Figuratively to tears. 

Then he sat up, came to sit on my lap without word, and just hugged me tight.  Rocking his little self against me.  For a minute.

Be. Still.  My.  Heart. 



Side note:
The last time I sang him this song he smiled at me too.  And I thought we were having a tender moment until he said, "Ugh...I don't like that song. It is waaaaay too long. You just KEPT ON SINGING."  

We interrupted that  tender moment....

Also, the last time he just came to me and sat and sat while hugging I gushed to him about how much I loved him and he told me, "Eww.  Your breath stinks.  Were you drinking booze?" 

We interrupted that tender moment too...

Christmas is Upon Us Now...

I do love all the somewhat iconic Christmas traditions.  Songs, stories, etc. That's why I get a little excited when they appear.

Indeed.  I just saw a Chia Pet commerical.  Those just don't get old.  Which I mean figuratively, of course, as the same commercial has been on since my youth.  So, literally they get old.  But, figuratively?  Nope. 

Also, I heard The Christmas Shoes today.  I am not alone in fact that this song makes me laugh, am I?  The idea is sad enough.  Mom going to meet Jesus on Christmas.  Kid is short on money to buy her one last gift.  Stranger spots him the cash.  But, I'd like to meet the little kid who is running to the local five and dime to buy his mom a gift that will make her look beautiful and choses shoes?  And it's a boy in the song.  Unlikely.   Call me insensitive.  It's an absurdly funny song.  Earings I might buy.  A hat even.  Necklace. Scarf.   Watch.  But, Christmas shoes? 

I might burn in hell.  That's okay.  I know there are plenty of you giving me a virtual nod right now who will be joining me. 

As soon as I see old lady clapping off her lights and settling in for sleep, I will know it's time to start shopping. 

And, for what it's worth.  Someone let Eli know I don't want the shoes if Father Fate gets me back.