To say that I am sickened and saddened by the tragedy of yesterday is an understatement.  I slept like crap last night, thinking about and aching for those poor parents who have lost their babies, who probably have wrapped or hidden Christmas presents stashed in their house that will never get opened.  Who will never see their children grow up.

How do you recover from something like that?  As a parent?  I think I’d go catatonic.  Or insane.  Knowing full well I’d have to hold my shit together for the remaining children I have, I still don’t think I could function.   How do you grieve over such a horrific loss?

I got the news of the events in Connecticut pretty late yesterday afternoon, so I didn’t have the full story, but I knew enough that I was overwhelmed with a sense of love and appreciation for my safe and alive kids yesterday afternoon.  It gave me a new wind of patience and compassion.  And man, I hope that stays with me for a VERY long time.

I imagine drop off at school will feel different on Monday.  I will take the time to slow down, say I love you, give large hugs, and leave knowing that I have not dropped my kids off in haste.

Those poor kids…

High school kids at least have a knowledge of disaster, they may react differently, quicker.  But a 6 year old?  How do you prepare them to duck and cover from a stranger?  And how does a crazy mo’ fo’ like that overlook the innocence and beauty of a small child and shoot to kill defenseless human beings?  I mean, BEYOND DEFENSELESS.

I know much will be written in the upcoming hours, days, weeks and months about gun control.  I won’t go in to my opinions about that here. Clearly something needs to be done.  Throw in Mental Health care as well.  But I pray that this will mobilize us all in to action.

In an effort to distract myself from the news, I let the kids open a present early.  Miss P received a package in the mail from my mom, I knew what it was, and figured it was a good of a time as any.  She opened the Tupperware cake set and her face lit up so beautifully.

But there wasn’t anything in the box for Mr. B.   I grabbed for the first small gift I could get my hands on from under the trea and gave it to him.  Wouldn’t you know it, it was a police accessory kit.  Complete with handcuffs, a whistle, a badge, and guess what?  A pistol.  And the reality of what I had just done set in.  Is this sending my child the wrong message?  Am I setting him up to become oblivious to violence? Am I teaching him that guns are toys that anyone can have access to?

My therapist would tell me to shut the hell up.  That a large percentage of boys will play with guns in imaginary play scenarios, and very few if any of them turn out to be creators of a massacre.  I know full well that my son would fashion just about anything in to a gun, so why fight it.

I only wish, though, that we were living in a world where we didn’t need guns at all, to defend ourselves.  That they didn’t even exist as a weapon of choice.   I’m sure if someone has got something really mentally wrong with them to provoke them in to such heinous violence, they’ll do it no matter what kind of artillery is accessible. But at least it would slow them down, give them time to think.

As I grappled with this, I looked up to see Mr. B and Miss P, chasing each other around the living room, laughing wildly and enjoying each other.  Such pure joy filled the room, and I had to take a breath and catalog it.  I’ll overlook the popping sound of this cheap plastic pistol for now.  They are alive.  They are full of life.  I can teach the lesson later.  Today, we play…