Bus Stop Medusa Strikes Again

So most mornings at the bus stop aren’t too pretty, I’ll be the first to admit this.  Usually, I’ve got running or yoga clothes on, and am sporting a ball cap or a ponytail.  I don’t think I’m alone here, but apparently, that’s where I need to live.

It sounded like my neighbors had been having a tough time getting out the door this morning as I listened to their conversation, while I headed down the driveway with the kiddos.  I was not greeted with my usual “Good morning, Mrs. W!” from Little Miss Sunshine, the younger of the kids next door.  The tiniest thing ever, she usually has a huge, beaming smile for me, and a big, happy, greeting.  This morning she was wrapped around her mom’s leg, with her face buried deep in mom’s thigh.  I chalked it up to the rough morning it seemeed like they were having.  Until…

About a minute before the bus came, a little voice said, “Mommy, why does Mrs. W. look like that?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  Heck, even Ladybug laughed.  I had actually put real clothes on, in anticipation of the kids’ school concert, so that was a plus, right? But, I had my glasses on.  And, most importantly, the Medusa hair had not yet been tamed.  Very few people are subjected to the Medusa hair.  Usually, if I’m not going to dry it, there’s some sort of product in there keeping things under control.  Or, it’s pulled back in a ponytail.  Or tucked under a ball cap.  Or all of the above.  Besides Big Man and the kiddos, the only other people who are regularly subjected to the full on Medusa effect are those who see me at the pool at 5:30 am before I tuck all of that $hit into a bathing cap.  I almost always walk through the parking lot to the pool with a baseball cap on. For good reason.  It’s scary. Just ask Little Miss Sunshine.  I honestly think that I’ve scarred her for life.

Hey, it’s humid out!

I promised Little Miss Sunshine I’d go inside and blow dry my hair, and straighten it.  I promised to leave my glasses at home.  She made it clear though, she’d still prefer it if I changed into my running clothes.  I guess, that’s just a better look for me.

Things always look better when kept under wraps!

Jen

Who Laid You?

The boy and I were outside, enjoying the warm weather and riding around the driveway on scooters.  Then he stopped and asked me a question:

 ”Who laid you?”

At first, I did not understand him.  His speech delay sometimes makes it hard to make out all his words.  Add in that I have no context whatsoever to go by and deciphering is nearly impossible.  So  I asked him:

“What?  Who delayed me?”

The Boy:  ”No.  Who laid you?”

Did he just ask who laid me?  WTF?  Where did he get that from?  Oh no, he’s becoming his father.  What the hell are they showing on Disney Jr these days? Has my four year old been surfing porn on YouTube?

Me: “Are you asking  who laid me?”

The Boy: “Yah”

My mind was busy trying to figure out what a four year old would be thinking to ask this question.  Usually, that is fairly easy for me since I am permanently immature myself, but today I had nothing.

Me:  ”Ummmmm…..I’m not sure I am understanding you.”

The kid looks at me as if to say, man, you are one big moron, aren’t you?  Which, apparently I am because I’m currently lost.

The boy (sighs):  ”You know, like when you have a baby in your heart?  And he head butts you?  To get out?”

Me – still confused.  The boy – quite ticked.

The boy:  ”You know, when you laid me.  When I was an egg.  Then I was hatched.  Y’know what I talking about?”

Ding! Ding! Ding!  It finally hits me.  Lightbulb!  I finally realize what this kid is trying to ask me.  In his warped little head, he is talking about the four year old version of the birthing process.  Babies start as eggs.  Eggs get laid.  Babies get hatched.  Got it.

Me:  ”Ahhhhh!  I get it!  Did I lay you?”

The Boy:  ”Yah”

Me:  ”Well, that’s not exactly how it works, but yes, I’m your mommy.  You came from my egg.”

The boy:  ”Was it blue? “

Me: “The egg?  Ummm, sure.”

(He’ll have plenty of time to find out the real story)

The Boy:  ”And what color was YaYa’s?”

Me: “Pink”

(Really?  Was I going to say anything else?)

The Boy:  ”So who laid you?”

(Ok, dude.  Let stop with the getting laid terminology.   It’s really starting to creep me out.)

Me: “Well, Nana is my mommy.”

The Boy:  ”Ooohhh.  So Nana is your mommy.  And you laid Daddy?”

Me:  ”Sometimes, but no, Grammy is Daddy’s mommy.”

The boy: “Oh”

And that was it.  He continued on with his scooter, obviously content with the information he acquired.  At some point, he will find out the truth and hopefully wont be to disappointed he wasn’t hatched from a blue egg.  Me – well, I’m just glad I got this question when he was 4 and not 24.  That would be an entirely different conversation and one I hope I never have.

Sue

 

What I truly want for Mother’s Day

© Adrianeraldo | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Each time the month of May rolls around, my husband and I have the same conversation we had the year before.  It goes something like this:

Him: Crap!  It’s May, isn’t it?

Me: Yep

Him:  Is Mother’s Day this weekend?  And your birthday is soon too.  I have to get you something.  What do you want?

Me:  Nothing

Him:  You have to give me some ideas.  You don’t like jewelry and I’m not going to try to buy you clothes.  Can you give me some kind of idea?

Me:  To be left alone.

Him:  Real nice.

I can’t blame my husband for being clueless as to what I want.   He’s been brainwashed by the advertisers and card companies that tell guys that what their wives really want is a super sappy love card or some romantic, humungeously expensive piece of jewelry or a giant bouquet of flowers that die in three days.  The commercials make you think we want to spend a loving day with our kids while they bring us burnt toast in bed and give us macaroni  art stuck to  paper plate as we skip off as one big happy family into the sunset.

It’s all horse shit.

I love my kids and my husband.  I know they love me.  I don’t need gifts or cards or acts of kindness to prove they care.  What I need is to be left alone – for just day.

I’m with my kids 24/7, most of the time by myself.  I am never alone.  I can’t shower alone, pee alone, eat alone or sleep alone.  There is always someone right there, in my face, wanting me for something.  I get no vacaation days, sick days, or comp days.  I’m on duty all day, every day.  So I find it insane that society thinks the one thing mothers want on Mother’s Day is to spend ALL DAY with their kids.  That’s not Mother’s Day.  That’s every day.  And in my mind, Mother’s Day should be different from every day.

So what do I want this Mother’s Day?

Give me a day where I can open my eyes without two little faces peering back at me, waiting to pounce and bombarde me with questions like “can we go downstairs?”, ” can you get me chocolate milk?”, ” Is it morning time? “,  ”Im hungry.  Can you get me something to eat?”

Give me a day when I can sit on the couch without everyone fighting about who gets to sit next to mommy while mommy gets sat on, kicked, and punched in the head as they wrestle to win the coveted spot.

Give me a day where I can watch show that I want without have to turn the volume up to 35 just so I can hear what is being said over the constant noise that my children make.

Give me a day where I can drink a cup of tea while its still hot and not have to contort my body like a cirque de sol acrobat around the flaying arms and legs of my children just to get the cup to my mouth.

Give me a day where nobody pisses on the floor, pisses on my lap, or pisses me off.

Give me a day where I can wander through a store without having to be badgered to buy a toy, leave my cart to find a bathroom, or rush to fit it in before pick up time.

Give me a day where I can eat a meal that is hot, doesn’t contain processed chicken, or require me to get up every 5 seconds to get something, and that someone else has made.

In short, give me a day off.  Give me a day where I am not a mom.

A day where I can worry about no one else but myself, where I don’t have to answer a million questions, dry someone’s tears,  calm someone’s tantrum, cook someone’s meals, cleans someone’s mess.

A day to myself to do what I want, when I want, even its doing nothing at all.

Because if you give me one day of not being a mom, I can give you many days of being a better mom.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the awesome moms out there.  Hope you all get what you deserve.

Love,

Sue

Pulling the Band Aid Off… Slowly.

I went on my first job interview in almost six years yesterday.  If you have read Stuck you know that I am searching for that next step.  Little Man will be going to school full time next year, and as much as I love being at home, I do also miss that sense of purpose that comes from working out in the world.

I wasn’t really nervous about my day until after the kiddos were off to school.  It’s hard to be nervous about a job interview when you’re in full “mommy mode.”  Once the kiddos were off, however, all the anxiety and nervousness came flooding in.  Would anybody notice that I wasn’t wearing a suit?  Could anybody besides me tell that my black blazer was just a slightly different shade of black than my pants?  Would I be able to tame my insane hair, and if so, would it stay tamed?  Should I drive in or take the train?  Where was the closest public parking?  Would I end up acting like a doofus mid-interview?

I tried to ask Big Man for help.  I thought that he could at least help me decide between driving in and taking the train.  But, he hates public transportation, which I find totally amusing since he grew up just one town south of Boston.  I, on the other hand, love public transportation.  Taking the train often means stretching the day out longer than necessary, since you’re at the mercy of the train schedule, but in my mind, it was the way to go.  I downloaded a new book to my iPAd and off I went.  I was still a little nervous on the train and had a little trouble concentrating on my book, but it was way better than trying to drive myself in.

Once I stepped outside of Back Bay Station and felt the sun on my face, it was a whole new ball game.  I love Boston.  I love being in Boston, and yesterday was a beautiful day to be in the city, all on my own.  Not to mention, I looked pretty fabulous all dressed up for my interview, mis-matched blacks aside.

I had gotten in an hour and fifteen minutes early, so I had plenty of time to scope out where I was going, hop on the Green Line and meet Zen Mom at Park St. for lunch.  It was a quick lunch, but it was good to see Zen Mom.  I miss running with her on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it was good to catch up and to talk to a full time working and commuting mom.  I don’t really have the opportunity to hear another perspective when it comes to the whole raising kids and balancing a career.  She doesn’t really love her commute, and she misses her time with her kids, but she also sees the value of making money, from a bunch of different perspectives.  She brought up good points about saving money for retirement and the kids’ college funds, but she brought up better points about wanting to set an example for her kids, especially her daughter.  We also talked about being independent and prepared, God forbid something were to happen in our current relationships.

I left the interview feeling like I had rocked it, but that fact remains to be seen.  The job is full time, in Boston, a solid hour away from my kids, and Big Man may need to start traveling more for his job.  I’m not sure if I could take this job if it were offered to me, regardless of pay.  But, I did have an hour to kill before my train home and the Athleta store on Newbury St was just around the corner.  I did also have plenty of time to take in the amazing memorial to the Marathon Bombing victims, read almost every sign, and to take a few pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When it was time to head out, I grabbed a latte and headed back to Back Bay Station (fabulous in and of itself!).  I still don’t know what I’m doing with myself, but at the very least, yesterday I satisfied my sense or professional self worth.  And, I had an absolutely amazing day in my favorite city, on an absolutely gorgeous day.  Today, it’s back to normal, and according to Betty, I am acting like a doofus already!

Jen

What if…..?

As humans, we take a lot of things for granted.    We take for granted that we will wake up each morning, that we will be able to watch our children grow up and have families of their own,  that we can breathe freely.

 

But, what if...

 

What if you were told your beautiful newborn had just tested positive for Cystic Fibrosis or CF, a chronic genetic disorder that effects the lungs and pancreas?

 

When my friend’s son, “Patrick” was just 10 days old, a routine screening done at the hospital came back positive for CF.  Imagine what a crushing blow that was for her.  While most mothers are settling in and enjoying their newborns first few days at home, my friend, “Tammy” was thrown into a crazy nightmare of tests and treatments.  She had to instantly switch gears and learn, on the go, how to help her son’s lungs stay clear as well as worry about getting his little body to absorb the proper nutrients.  She also had to deal with the fact that her beautiful little boy now had a shortened life since most people with CF have an average life expectancy of 36.

 

What if every time your child got a cold, it meant 2 weeks of heavy antibiotics and the possibility of a hospital stay?

 

For most of us, when our kids get a cold, we throw them on the couch, pop in a movie, and make sure they are hydrated and comfortable.  Then we wait it out.  It’s an inconvience for us.  Missed work or blown plans are the worst of what we experience.  For my friend, a cold could be life threatening.  ”Tammy” has to worry about germs constantly.   My friend has kept her son home from school because a bad case of the stomach flu was going through his grade or a high percentage of kids were out with the flu.  It is safer to have him stay home and miss school then to risk getting sick.

 

What if you had to get up, every day, at 4:45am to give your son an hour plus treatment before school so he can keep his lungs clear enough to breath?  Then do it all over again in the evening after a long day of school and sports?

CF Vest

Nebulizer

 

My friend rises early each morning in order to complete his treatments before he leaves for school at 7am.  Each morning, “Patrick” straps on a space suit looking vest that pounds on his back and chest which breaks up the mucus in his lungs.  He is on it for 45 minutes.  During that time he also uses a nebulizer to inhale medications that help clear his airways.   He has to repeat the whole process again at night.  HIs mom has to make sure he gets it in two hours before bed or the medications can effect his sleep.  That’s on a “normal” day.  If he is fighting a cold, she will add in an additonal vest treatment along with any additional medications or antibiotics through the inhaler.  It’s not unheard of for him to spend over an hour completing his treatments.  When he was an infant, “Tammy” had to do all the treatments manually, meaning she had to pound on his back with her hands to help break up the mucus because he was too little for the vest treatments.

What if your child have to take a handful of pills every time he ate just so his body could breakdown the fat from food he eats?

© Pdiaz | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

 

The pancreas is also affected when you have CF.  It cannot do its job to break down and absorb the fat from food so my friend’s son has to take enzymes to help break it down.  Every time he puts food in his mouth, he has to take these pills.  My friend constantly has to remember to have enzymes with her at all times.  She has to make sure the school has enough on supply for J to take during the school year.  He is up to 6 pills every time he has something to eat.  That adds up to a lot of pills to carry around each day.

 

What if every year that your child celebrates his next birthday is a bitter sweet moment?

 

Every year in August, my friend celebrates her son’s birthday.  It is always a very emotional time of year for her.  Every year he makes it through without a hospital stay or a major setback is a cause for celebration, but also a reminder that his time is limited.  When he turned 10, my friend cried.  Because he made it 10, but also because 10 is the time that CF patients like “Patrick” start to have complications.  Patrick made it to 12 before he had to go in to the hospital for a “clean out” where he was hooked up to a pic line and feed heavy duty antibiotics for over 2 weeks.  Luckily, he only had to stay in the hospital for 5 days and was able to finish out his treatments at home.  My friend became an instant nurse, having to learn how to use an IV, making sure the medicine was refrigerated, and keeping him on schedule.  Plus get his regular vest treatments in as well.  By the time she finished it all, she had little time to do anything else before the process started all over again.  It turned into almost 3 weeks of treatment – a very LONG 3 weeks.

 

What if there was actually a cure in sight for CF?

 

Recently, the CF Foundation in conjunction with the pharmaceutical company, Vertex made a major breakthrough with a drug called, Kalydeco.  This drug has shown great promise at combating the root cause of CF.  It is still in clinical phases, but it looks promising to be available by prescription by 2014. Although it only works with about 4% of the CF population, it is inspiring news.  The foundation is now working on another drug called VX-661 that, when used with Kalydeco, has shown dramatic improvement in the lung function of people with two copies of the most common CF mutation, Delta F508, which is what my friend’s son has.  Patrick is a prime candidate to get these drugs either in a clinical trial or when they become available through prescription.  My friend feels she is in a race against time.  You see, these medicines are showing they can stop CF from progressing further, but does not reverse any of the damage already done to the lungs, therefore, doctors will only give the drugs to CF patients who are healthy and have no severe lung damage.  Last month, Patrick went in for his check up after the clean out and they found a worrisome spot on his lungs – maybe a lung infection or maybe the start of some lung damage.  How devasting would it be for him to get so close to getting a drug that could halt the progression of this disease only to have the chance taken away because it was available a few months too late?  My friend worries about this daily.

 

What if there was a way to help get these drugs available to the CF population quicker?

 

In the 1950′s, people diagnosed with CF did not live long enough to go to elementary school.  Today, over 30,000 people have CF and their life expectancy is now in the mid 30′s.  This all due to the amazing research done by the CF Foundation and is only possible through their incredible fundraising efforts.  The CF Foundation receives NO federal funding.  All their funding comes from private donations.  For every dollar they receive, NINETY cents goes directly to funding research.  Ninety cents!  That is unheard of with most charities.  Donations are the reason they are so close to a cure and it’s the reason my friend campaigns so hard for this foundation.  In the mist of all that was happening with her son these past 3 months, my friend managed to plan an amazing Trivia Charity Night that raised over $5600 for the CF Foundation.  Over 200 friends and family as well as some strangers gathered together for a wildly fun night to support an amazing young man (and an amazing mom).  Their goal was to help him get closer to a longer life and a cure for all.   I think we did damn good.

A cure is within site.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel.  My friend’s son could very well live a long and prosperous life.  He may be able to get married and have kids, even grandkids, and watch them grow, like we all hope to do.

 

But this can only happen through donations.

 

So…..what if?

 

What if every one of my 167 Facebook friends and all 200 of my email contacts donated just $1.00 to the CF Foundation?

 

What if you added in the people that follow this blog or my contacts on Twitter, LinkedIn, and Google?

 

What if every one of my friends shared this on their facebook page or with one of their friends who then passed it on to one of their friends and so on?

 

What if your child, grandchild, niece, nephew, sister, or brother had this life shortening disease?

 

Think of how much we could raise to help people like my friend’s son add more tomorrows.

 

Most of us don’t have to think of all the What Ifs.  But my friend has to – every day.  Her son’s life depends on it.  We take so many things for granted these days.  Life is so precious and much too short . And one day, you too may be faced with something like this, something that makes you wonder…..

 

What if?

 

I feel blessed to have meet my friend, that she allowed me into her life and lets me share in this battle with her.  She is my hero.  I am in awe of her strength and commitment.  I wish I had one tenth of that.  I am also so glad to have the chance to watch her son as he has grown from a cute, pudgy little boy into a teen who now towers over me.  He’s a regular kid, often trying as most kids are, but posses the most compassionate heart, a warped sense of humor and an infectous smile that lights up a room.  You just can’t help but love him.  And I want nothing more than to see him grow into the amazing man I know he will be…but he needs help to get there.

 

Below is a link to my CF page where you can donate to the CF Foundation.  One dollar can make a world of difference in my friend’s life and her son’s….and so many others’.  Please consider making a donation today.

 

http://www.cff.org/Great_Strides/SuePanciocco8591

 

Thank you!

Sue

 May is CF Awareness month.  Below is an amazing 6 minute video showing some inspiring kids who are facing CF head on.

http://youtu.be/EsCfijn-z1E

The girl in the video is Emily Schaller and she started a non profit called Rock CF Foundation.  Check out her site and some of the great products she has.  All the profits go to the CF Foundation.

Also, I’ve provided a link to showing some of the recent advances being made to cure Cf, all through funding from people like you.

http://www.cff.org/aboutCFFoundation/NewsEvents/4-18-Phase-2-Combo-Study-Kalydeco-VX-661-Results.cfm

Top Ten Reasons Dogs Are Better Than Kids

Hope this adds a little fun to your day!

 

10.   They don’t talk back
9.     You can walk them on a leash without people looking at you funny.

8.     You only have to feed them twice a day.
7.     What every you put in front of them, they will eat.

6.     Using shock collars on them is not illegal.

5.     You can lock them in a crate if they annoy you
4.     They can be left at home while you do errands
3.     They reach maturity by the time they are three.
2.     You only have to bathe them once a month

1.     NO DIAPERS

 

Can’t wait for that day!

Sue

 

 

 

What Parts are Private

© Creativestock | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Most days, when I pick the boy up from preschool, I wait with bated breath to see how he comes out.  Is he happy, mad, sad, wet, dry or a combination of these.   Depending on how he comes out can determine how the rest of the afternoon goes.  So the other day, when he came skipping out the door, I thought things looked pretty promising.  And then I realized his teacher was following right behind him.  That could only mean one thing – trouble.

 

Teacher:  I just wanted to let you know about something that happened today.  In case you hear about it tonight.  I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.

 

Oh geez!  Conversations that start off this way usually don’t end well.

 

Me:  Do I really want to know?

 

Teacher:  Oh it’s nothing bad (yeah right).  It’s just…when we were all in circle time, he got up, ran over to me, poked me in the boob and yelled “Boobie!”

 

O.M.G!  Shoot me now.

 

Teacher:  Its really not a big deal.  It happens more often than you think.  We just had a little conversation about private parts of the body and such.  I just didn’t want you to hear about it at home and be like, what the heck is going on?

 

Me:   Thank you.  I appreciate you telling me and I’m truly sorry.

 

Teacher:  Its really no biggie.

 

Me:  It’s his father’s fault.  He’s Italian so the decks stack against the boy.  I think it might be a genetic disorder.

 

So after this lovely conversation was over, I texted my husband, who was in some other part of the US.

My husband’s response

 

 

As you can see, we make horrible role models and are most likely the reason our children are as warped as they are.  But, hey, at least we are fun at parties.  :)

 

In order to redeem ourselves and at least look like we are somewhat responsible parents, we had the “what’s parts are private” talk with our kids.  I was hoping it would also be a refresher course for my husband since he is often cloudy on this subject as well.

 

The next morning, as I lay squished between two children and my 200lb husband in our KING size bed, I felt something creepy up my shirt.  Of course it was my husband coming in for his morning grope.  But then I felt another hand, this one quite smaller.  It was my daughter’s hand, hanging out right beside her dad’s.

 

Me:  Why the hell is everyone’s hand up my shirt?!?!?

Daughter: What? Your boobs are so soft and squishy

Husband: Yeah, mom.  They are so soft and squishy.

 

I think its time I move out.

Stuff I Love About My Guy

OK, so let’s be honest, sometimes we’re hard on our guys.  They’re usually the first to feel the effects of our daily frustrations.  They’re also the first to get picked on, by us.  Sometimes, very publicly.  However, for a girl who got picked up by some random boy in a bar, I think I made out pretty well.  Here are a few reasons why:

·         Some hubbies really suck.  I hear stories other women tell and think, “Holy crap!  I’ll keep mine, thank you very much.”

·         Dude’s a bed maker.  I could sleep in a bed for days on end without ever making it.  Twisted, tangled sheets are no deterrent for me.  Big guy makes the bed every day, unless I’m still in it when he leaves for work.  He’s passed his bed making habits along to the kiddos.  As I see it, I could go the rest of my life never making another bed, unless of course, it involves changing the sheets.

Ok, mayyyybe Ladybug takes after me.

·         He thinks I’m hot.  Granted, there are nights I wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t think I’m hot, I’d much rather he think I’m hot than somebody else.

·         Big Man knows how to do dishes, load a dish washer, and empty it.  And, he takes the time to show the kiddos how to do the dishes.

Little Man, learning the ropes.

·         He’s sarcastic and a sometimes he’s not very nice.  I LOVE that about him.  Some of his commentary is totally off-color and inappropriate.  I find him to be very amusing.

·         Somehow, he has fallen for my particular brand of crazy.  We all have a little bit of crazy in us.  It’s amazing anyone ever finds somebody to fall for our crazy, but we do.

·         Big Man LIKES to go to the grocery store, with BOTH kids, on a Saturday morning.  The Saturday morning trip to the grocery store was kind of nice when it was just the two of us, and we were willing to spend a little bit more on groceries at the nicer, bigger chain.  Now that I’m Super Frugal Mama and we hit the scary supermarket, I don’t even want to go in there alone half the time, let alone with anybody else to get tangled up in the crowds.

·         I break $hit.  Expensive $hit.  He always seems to roll with it.  If you haven’t already checked out Happy New Year, Big Man, give it a read.  Or, more recently, I broke the carafe to the coffee maker.  I do this about once every six months when I’m washing it out.  This time I was rewarded with a new  Keurig.  Totally makes sense, right?

·         He works hard for our family and he loves our kids.  Really?  Didn’t need any of the above.

·         6’2” and baby blues.  No matter how much he pisses me off during the day, when he comes home from work and sits across the dinner table with those flippin’ blue eyes staring at me, I tend to forget why I was pissed in the first place.

An oldie, but goodie. Couldn’t help myself!

Hope

© Mmulligan | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

At 2:50 pm yesterday, Big Man and I were sitting on a park bench in the sun, watching Ladybug and Little Man run around a local park.  In that moment, all I could think of was how innocent they both seemed, running, laughing, and playing in the sun.  Now, all I can think of is the innocent eight year old boy who was taken from his family at that moment.  Waiting for his dad to finish the Boston Marathon, he must have been so excited.  Now his mother and sister are being treated for their own injuries while they mourn his loss.    What an awful thing for a family to suffer through.  It breaks my heart just thinking about it.  Ladybug is eight and she has so much living left to do.

It has been a long four months.  Yesterday’s tragedy in Boston comes four months and one day after the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Ct.  In fact, the 26 mile marker at yesterday’s marathon was a special marker, dedicated to the 26 people who lost their lives at Sandy Hook on December 14, 2012.  Many of the Sandy Hook victims’ family members were in Boston for the marathon yesterday.  How awful for all of them to have a front row seat to more devastating violence.  It has all been awful for all of us.  Some of us have just been lucky enough to be further removed.

And that’s all it is.  Luck.  That’s a terrible, scary thought, whether you’re a child or an adult.  Awful things happen, and we’re lucky if we are able to get through life escaping them.  Even if we escape the awful things in life directly, they still affect everyone on some level.  I have permanent images attached to the memories of where I was and what I was doing on September 11, 2001, on December 14, 2012, and April 15, 2013.  It is impossible to forget the tragedies that have occurred and the lives that have been lost.  There is nothing trivial about any of these incidents.  But I also have memories of the images of firefighters carrying people out of the rubble and away from the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001. I will never forget reading about the principal and the teachers who gave their lives protecting their students on December 14, 2012.  In fact, I tear up every time I think about them.  And I will never forget the images of the first responders tearing the fencing down along Boylston Street to get to the blast victims yesterday.

We can’t ever forget our victims.  Their losses are wounds that are deep and painful.  Patriots’ Day in Boston is an iconic day that will forever be changed.  But there are amazing, heroic people among us.  The best way to move forward is to remember them as well and to teach our children to do the same.  They give us hope and we all could use a little bit of that.

Jen

Follow up to Wait… What Was I Doing?

So the Athleta Goddesses are getting me back for last week’s post Wait… What Was I Doing?

Things started with a double-whammy in the mailbox yesterday:

Then Wednesday night at the pool, IronMama stopped to tell me that she’d just gone shopping there and spent waaaay too much money on not a lot of stuff.  Did I need the friends and family code she had used?  Yes.  But, no!  Stop me, please!

Then today after classes were done I checked my phone and found the following texts from Ms. Cocktail:

Nothing good can come of this…