I've struggled with my thoughts regarding the tragedy in Connecticut last week.
I don't usually post about events like this on my blog, but I did have a few thoughts I wanted to share.
Thoughts that keep running through my mind, even though my tv is off. Because I can't. I just can't.
As a mother and a school teacher... I just. can't. watch.
It's just the babies. People's babies. Their beds filled in the morning, and empty by nightfall.
No one to peep in on after bedtime.
People lose their babies all the time. Tiny secret babies the world hasn't learned about yet.
Busy little toddlers, and lanky middle schoolers.
I've been wresteling with this fear that lives deep inside since I became a mother.
The fear that something might happen to my baby.
because really, there are so many things I can't control.
And I can't think about that either. I can't let that fear surface.
Otherwise I would lock my baby up and we'd never leave the house and what a lousy childhood that would be.
So instead, I remember that one day I will lose my baby- not to tragedy, but to adulthood.
Luke won't find his Neverland, and one day, he will grow up.
So I'll cherish the hours I have, in each stage of his life.
And so when company is coming in five minutes and I need to vacuum up the litter of pine needles that were just karate kicked off our tree, and that little baby hand reaches up to grab the vacuum handle, and the baby feet stumble and trip all over mine, I let him. I let him, and we s l o w l y labor together.
Because one day there won't be baby hands and feet clambering to help, and my Christmas tree won't be subjected to swipes and kicks. So for now, I'll smile at the sticky chocolate fingerprints on my refrigerator and the toys I just stepped on (ouch), because they remind me that a little boy lives here, and he is ALL MINE- for now.