Momma Bear

It is 7:30 in the morning.

The rose gold light of the sunrise filters through my sheer curtains, bathing my bedroom in an almost reverent glow.

In my drowsy Nightquil fueled haze, I make out the sound of little feet scurrying and whispered threats of waking Mom. My wild ones are wide awake. Looting the kitchen for hidden treats that I purchased for the impending school year. Future theifs they will not be, at least not good ones anyhow.

As I creak out of bed, trying to stifle a laugh from the sounds just outside of my door, I come to terms with the familiar knot in my gut. I have spent the last few weeks as a giant ball of anxiety. I have worked myself into such a tizzy that my junk set of lungs has decided to act up, leaving me with a cough that sounds like I have smoked a pack a day for the last 40 years. My stomach has been in knots with the thought of the upcoming school year.

The last 3 years of Aiden’s school experience was a nightmare. My husband and I fought endlessly with the school he was attending. Getting a 504 put into place and having it followed was a massive struggle. Bullying was a constant issue since kindergarten. Keeping “well meaning” hindrances away from him was a feat. Trying to find a new way to teach him at home as well as at school has been an interesting learning experience for both Aiden and myself. It was a hard learned lesson and I came out a fierce, yet quite frazzled, Momma Bear.

Last summer his anxiety became apparent, school was his biggest trigger. The mere mention of reading in front of the class spun him into a panic attack. Through lots of counseling, meditation and positive thinking, he actually seems excited about this next year. I hide my own anxiety about what may come with a smile and a hug. Nothing but positivity and calming techniques flow from my mouth while my insides feel as though they are lit up like a Christmas tree.

My biggest worry though is for my little hummingbird, Blake. He will start kindgarten tomorrow. While I am well versed in Aiden’s school experience, Blake’s is a whole new chapter. Some of my worries are similar to that of other kindergarten parents: Will he enjoy school? Will he be able make a new friend? Will he listen to the teacher? Will he know what bus to get on to?

It is my other worries that keep me up at night: Will he bite? Will he be able to let the teacher know if something isn’t right? Will he participate in class? What if he gets lost? If he does, will he be able to tell anyone the right information?

Even though he has been in speech for the last year and a half, I still struggle to understand him most days.

My little hummingbird is full of questions and burning curiosity. He loves to make knock knock jokes and has an unbelievable amount of love in him. He also has a hard time with communication and sensory issues which can cause problems in school.

I so badly want to protect him from everyhing that could go wrong. I want to protect him from the mean kids, the kids who might not understand, from people with short fuses and non existent patience levels. I want to protect him from thinking that his intelligence level comes from how well he performs on a standardized test.

Yet in the end, I can’t send him to school in a plastic bubble. That would definitely do more harm than good. Even though I am terrified with what may happen and how it might come to change my beautiful little hummingbird, it is not in my hands. I can write our address and phone number in his backpack. I can constantly tell him how wonderful he is and how much I love him. I can give him tools to help him succeed. To be there to dust him off and help him back up when life kicks his ass. Being the massive control freak that I am, giving it up to the universe and letting whatever come what may has been extremely hard to come to terms with and is something I struggle with on a daily basis. But that is the only way they will learn.

So I say to you world:

Here are my cubs.

Please be gentle.

Love,

Momma Bear

Today I had an eye opening, albeit humorous, conversation with my 5 year old that goes as follows:

M: Guess who’s birthday is tomorrow?
B: …
M: Mine! I’m so freaking excited!
B: How old are you?
M: 29!!
B: I’m sorry.
M: Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m excited.
B: 29 is old. I’m sorry you are so old.

Thanks kid 😂😂

So for future reference…29 is old. Crypt keeper. Extra in The Walking Dead. Good to know. 😎

I hate to see how he is going to react next year when I turn 30.

Summer Break

For the last 3 days, my boys decided that they would do “science.” What this involves is a gallon of cold water, dirt and an active imagination.

Mud.

That’s right. They have been making mud.

They spent 8 hours outside yesterday, absolutely blissful and covered in mud. They spent 2 days digging a massive hole under the large tree that resides in our backyard. When asked what they might be looking for, they simply answered, “buried pirate treasure.” I didn’t have it in me to ruin their innocent childhood glee by reminding them that Idaho was a landlocked state. So instead I threw SPF 50 sunscreen on my little human flashlights, gave them a water bottle and reminded them that I get a cut if they found anything.

They sat in that hole, surrounded by all of their outside toys, until the sun went down and I had to drag them inside with the promise they could return in the morning.

After breakfast this morning, they gathered their supplies and headed back outside. I am kicking myself for not figuring out this crap sooner during the break.

2 weeks ago I had to listen as my children whined and cried about how boring their summer break was.

“We never do anything fun!”

“What am I going to tell my class when we have to write about our summer? We stayed at home. It was so boring. No one wants to read that!”

“Dillion gets to go to Lagoon and the water park! What do we get to do?”

And my all time favorite, ” This sucks! We have a boring family. If you loved us, we would get to do fun things.”

These outbursts would lead to one of my own usually resulting in some version of this:

“Listen here, you manpiluative little munchkins. That’s not how this works, that’s not how ANY of this works. My only job on this planet is to feed, clothe and love you. That is it! No where in the Mom bylaws does it state that I have to entertain you 24/7. Too bad you weren’t born into a family of millionares. You obviously got a raw deal. My condolences.”

Would I like to do super exciting and fun things with my children during the summer? You bet! Waterparks, amusement parks, the beach or Yellowstone, all sound like a blast. A VERY expensive blast. As a family of 5 on one income, these ideas aren’t fesiable without robbing a bank. So most of our days are spent at home as a result of that. Granted we still go to the park, go swimming, get ice cream and have pizza/movie nights, but the really BIG summer plans aren’t something we are able to do. It doesn’t help that most summer camps cost an arm and a leg. The idea of driving 10+ hours with a screaming 7 month old makes me want to sratch my eyes out let alone the cost of driving that far. The tickets to a theme park for a family of 5 would easily make up our rent for that month, and let’s face it, the kids would only be able to ride half of the shit there anyway.

I have wonderful memories of summers that I had growing up and for a second felt guilty that somehow I was letting my kids down by not giving them similar experiences. Only when I looked back on these memories with “Mom hindsight” did I realize that I am already giving my children those experiences. I grew up in a family of 4 kids, all very close in age. While we did have BIG summer break activities, like theme parks, going to the beach, backpacking Zion and road tripping to Canada, those did not happen until all 4 of us were teenagers. We weren’t absolutely dependent on our parents for survival at that point. When we were younger, we spent almost every afternoon at the pool, riding our bikes around town. My parents made sure we went camping and played card games. There weren’t any super expensive trips planned for 4 kids under the age of 10. We wouldn’t have enjoyed as much as we did when we were older. I am unbelievably thankful for that.

Now this post isn’t meant to bash anyone who does those BIG experiences with small children. If you have the means for it, go for it. They may not remember, but you will. Those Mom memories last a lifetime. ❤ But as for my house, we will stick to our Dollar Store summer. Play dough, glow sticks, sidewalk chalk, bubbles and dirt toys to the rescue. Someday we will have a BIG summer, but for now, I will relish in the simplicity of our summer. My only hope is that throughout their life my kids can hang onto the unbridled joy that something as simple as water, dirt and a little bit imagination can give them. After all, summer is full of sunshine and possibilty. 🌞

A Love Letter to My Daughter

It is 930 in the evening. The house is slowly getting darker, twilight filtering through the light colored curtains hanging in the living room. The slow, deep creak of the outdated rocking chair fills the otherwise quiet room, save for the soft humming of your favorite lullaby. I have sung this tune countless times today in an effort to help ease your pain. It was a rough day for you, sweet one. Your first set of teeth are coming through and you, understandably, are hating every second of it.

Your breathing finally gets deeper, your little hand no longer wound through my hair and your body sinks into me, heavy with sleep. As I stare down at you, filled with wonder that I was able to create someone so beautiful, I realize that I cannot remember the last time you fell asleep in my arms. While you are only 6 months old, our house is one filled with schedules. These last few months I have been in survival mode. Weekely appointments, meetings and commitments to be done. The never ending chaos that is housework and laundry. Busy work, all of it.

At this moment in time, studying your ever changing face in the quiet growing dark, I come to terms that you are my last. You will be my last lullaby. My last little one filled with bright eyes and rolls, smelling like love and sunshine. You are the perfect ending to my lovely chapter.

My time with you is slipping away so quickly, like a handful of sand, I can see you changing every day. While I am curious to see who you will become, I must first impart some matronly hopes. I must write them down my dear, as you and your brothers have made my ever wandering mind more sieve like as each day passes.

First and foremost:

I hope that you will be able to find joy in the simple things life has to offer. The smell right before it rains. The feeling of satisfaction of a job well done. The sight of small children playing in sunbeams. This world can feel dark and empty at times. To quote Dumbledore in all of his profound wisdom, ” Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

I hope that you never lose your laugh. It is the best sound in the world, like it sneaks up and surprises you. May you laugh, loudly and often, all throughout your life. Belly laugh. Laugh until no words come out and tears stream down your gorgeous face. Laughter is a fantastic remedy for most situations.

May your father and I only give you enough dysfunction to make you funny. No major issues that require lifelong therapy, just enough dark humor to get you through the rough spots in life.

May you never look in the mirror and hate the reflection staring back at you. May you never make the number on the scale synonmous with your worth. To me, my dear girl, you are perfect. From the top of your head down to the toes you inherited from me. You are a light in the lives of your brothers and father. Let no middle school insecurities cloud those beautiful blue eyes.

May you find your tribe. May they be loyal, loving and above you help you radiate joy. I have been incredibly lucky in this area, and I hope we can teach you how to pick nice humans who celebrate in your joy and motivate you to be a good human. A steady and loving circle is essential. These will be the people to help you back up when you fall. ❤

You will fall during life, fucking hard at times. The only thing to do my darling, is to get back up. You will not fall forever, no matter if it feels that way. Like a roller coaster, life will have its own sets of ups and downs. Please do not live in the past or focus on when you fall. Sliding down can be intoxicating if you’re not careful. Feeling sorry for yourself never accomplished anything my love, and you are not a victim. You have the power to change your circumstance and your life. Change can seem scary, but nothing is as scary as staying somewhere you don’t belong. Life is an adventure meant to be lived.

Stay curious. Ask questions, about anything and everything. Don’t let your voice waver. Stick to your morals and convictions. Listen to that little voice in your head. When something feels off, it usually is. Speak up when you are wrong and through your actions attempt to make it right. Read anything you can get your hands on. As much as I would love to see you go college, that in the end, is up to you my dear girl. You don’t need a degree to be educated, but it does help. To quote your grandmother,” People can take almost everything away. Your job, your house, your livelihood…but they can never take away your education.”

May you never question my love for you. You and your brothers were the best thing to happen to me. There will be times where you and I will struggle, like all mothers and daughters, but know that you are loved beyong measure. No matter what. Nothing you could say or do will change that. As long as I live, my baby you’ll be. ❤

Since writing this letter, you and your father are softly snoring in harmony with one another. The house is way past twilight and your oldest brother will be up in less than 6 hours. He has inherited a morning person gene that no one else in the house has. So for now, my little one, my letter must come to an end. Who knows, there may be a 2.0 version printed as you get older. I’m not sure what our future will hold. I am thrilled to see what type of adventure your life will turn out to be. You, along with your siblings, are my favorite adventure yet. Thank you for being mine. I love you more than you know. 😘

Therapy Moms

To the Mom of the newly diagnosed kid:

I see you.

I understand the tsunami wave of emotion and guilt that is coursing its way through you right now.

I know that you will leave this appointment in a haze. You will feel befuddled and foggy while desperately trying to remember what the doctor said and silently cursing yourself for not turning on your voice recorder to save the enormous amount of information thrown your way during a 30 minute appointment.

I know that you will Google your brains out when you get a free minute to sit down. Tread carefully here, the interent can be a wonderful yet terrifying tool, do not believe every negative article you find and above all, trust your gut. You got this Momma.

More importantly, I would like to welcome you to the group of therapy moms.

It may be occupational, speech, physical, behavioural, counseling or a combination of multiple therapies. You will fill out so much paperwork that you might begin to worry if you inadvertently signed your child away. You may start to be on first name basis with the lovely people at your insurance company or Health and Welfare. You may find yourself struggling to comprehend the multiple acronyms the therapists will throw you way. We got you girl.

Once you enter those doors, it is a judgment free zone.

Catastrophic Category 5 meltdown? No worries. We had 3 of those this morning in the waiting room. There will be no leering. No snide comments made under our breath about your parenting. There will be no scooting away and avoiding eye contact.

A kind glance. A smile. A supportive word: You got this, breathe. We will attempt to distract your little one long enough for you to get your bearings.

Here is a safe space. Free from the guilt that accompanies any form of social interaction when your little one is missing milestones. Here we celebrate the every achievement and milestone, no matter what age your child may be.

5 year old is getting the hang of potty training? Woo hoo!

Finally able to understand a sentence from your little munchkin? Way to go!

Your kid was able to bring themselves back from the brink of a meltdown? Awesome!

Little one is walking without their leg braces? Amazing!

We swap snacks, stickers and therapy info. There are endless talks about 504’s, IEP’s and special education programs. Calming techniques and latest sensory toys are openly discussed. Our discussions are peppered with some dark humor because in the end laughter is the best medicine. We catch up with eachother in 10 minute increments between therapies once to twice a week. Encouragement and acknowledgement flow freely here. Don’t feel self conscious in your comments, you are not coming off as whiny or ungrateful. We get it. You adore your children and you desperately want to help them, that is why you are here. But we also understand that you are beyond exhausted and venting for a bit to a group of women who all understand is in its own way therapeutic.

We each have our own journey and we come from all walks of life. For this brief period of therapy, let us be your village. We have snacks and caffeine. Welcome to the club sweet momma. You’re gonna be just fine. 😘👑

Selfie

I could post some type of vague and inspirational quote, my Pinterest boards are overflowing with them due to my desire of changing my pessimistic personality towards something resembling a more positive nature.

My love affair with memes, GIFs and emojis could also play a part in my wanting to construe some type of depth without having the time or energy to actually use the English language.

I could hide behind a variety of excuses and try to convince the people of internet that I had a valid reason for posting a selfie.

Or I could rush right into it with a 100% blatant honesty.

I spend 14 hours a day being everything to the little humans that I have created. Chef, maid, chaueffer, referree, event coordinator, nurse and the teller of some pretty epic bed time stories. I am both a human blankie as well as a walking human Kleenex. Being everything to tiny humans is extremely draining. Physically, emotionally and mentally. All sorts of sex appeal feels lost when you are catching vomit or find dried oatmeal in your hair. Three very busy children have left me in survival mode. Most days I wear no make up. I can rock a ponytail like nobody’s business. My style could be described as SAHM sheek. 😂 On a day where I am feeling particularly fancy: Three button jeans that attempt to conceal the kangaroo pouch that having my little ones has passed down to me. Loose T shirt with easy access for breastfeeding. I live in my Teva’s. If we have nowhere to go on the agenda, then I am usually found barefoot, in leggings and a nursing tank top. I survive on caffeine. Copious amounts of it as of late. Dry shampoo is considered part my of beauty routine most days.

A while back, I had someone who was close to me poke fun at the fact that I post selfies. Thinly concealed insults thrown around with a sprinkling of faux concern and love. For a long time these comments had worked their way under my skin. They had nit picked at my long forgotten middle school insecuritues that I had thought to have outgrown. So I stopped taking pictures of myself. I filled my time taking pictures of my little humans and found a new reason every time I took a photo with them as to why not to post it. Until finally I grew tired of the nasty little voice in my head informing me everything that looked wrong in said picture.

I posted this picture for the only reason that makes any type of sense. I look damn good. I felt incredibly sexy that night. Why shouldn’t that reason alone be enough? Instead of condemning women for posting a selfie why not celebrate the fact that they had the guts to do so in the first place? Why not shout “Yasss Queen” 🙌 when we see someone who has the courage to show the world who they are?

So here is my challenge to you: Take a selfie that makes you feel fantastic. Challenge unrealistic standards of beauty set forth by our society and realize that you are gorgeous just the way you are. If putting on make up and getting dressed up makes you feel great, then do that. If being barefoot with a ponytail and no makeup make you feel wonderful then take the picture. Be as supportive to other women posting a selfie as a drunk girl in a bathroom would. Post that selfie that has been hanging out in your gallery for way too long. Tell that nasty insecure voice to take a hike. You do you girl. I’ll be here cheering you on. 😘👑

For breakfast today Blake had: half of an apple, cereal…and half of a bag of marshmallows that he stowed away in his cheeks like a chipmunk while Mom was busy feeding sister. Today is also the day when blake decided to be INDEPENDENT and pour his own glass of milk.

Nothing wakes you up faster then walking into the kitchen for your first cup of coffee. Next thing you know your feet are up in the air and your ass is on the floor. From sliding on spilled milk….and garbage that the dog lovingly splayed all over the floor.

Have kids they said….it will be fun they said. 😂😂😂

Ah domestic bliss ❤

#sahmadventures

First kid(left): Mulitple coordinating outfits. Props available for adorable photos, which are taken every month to show age progression. Knew every nap and milestone schedule.
Third kid(right): Outfit found in dryer, said a silent prayer to the laundry gods that it was clean. Matching is a thing of the past. Photos taken whenever a free minute is had, usually on mom’s bed while she is getting dressed. Naps…sleeps after she eats. She yells at mom when she wants to eat. Milestones….usually Googled after everyone is in bed to make sure some progression is being had.

#threekids #momoutsideofthebox #firstvsthird #momlife

Where I’m Meant To Be

After two weeks of a persistent cough accompanied with wheezing, I went into Quick Care this last week. I already knew the diagnosis, pneumonia for the third time this year, but thought I should start the regime of antibiotics and steroids while my husband had the munchkins. I met with a very pleasant PA. I explained that I previously had a low grade fever, felt run down, no appetite for the past 2 weeks and had rales in my lungs accompanied with a cough. While working in the healthcare field I had contracted pneumonia from a patient a few years back and was prone to catching it from then on. She seemed impressed with my assessment and asked about my background. I told her that I spent 8 years working in healthcare; a CNA in nursing homes and the  hospital, and that I spent my last 3 years working as a phlebotomist for the local cancer center. Both of my parents were involved in the field while I was growing up, so it was a lifestyle I was raised around. I told her that I made the decision to become a stay at home mom about a year and a half ago. She sat there for a minute, saying nothing while looking at me, and then gave an answer that took my by surprise. ” That’s a shame, you seem educated. I really hope that once your youngest gets into school you will continue with your education. You need something for yourself. Your identity should contain more that just being a mom. I would hate to see you do nothing but sit and stare at a wall, waiting for the kids to come home.”

I left the clinic feeling conflicted.  This particular conversation wasn’t one that I hadn’t heard before. I come from a line of educated women, my aunt has a Master’s and my mother has a doctorate. I am the only child out of four who has children, my desire to have them and do to it at such a young age has always perplexed my family. I am used to having questions and well meaning worry thrown my way by those who love me. This is the first time in the last 10 years that worry has been directed towards me by a complete stranger. The majority of the time strangers have voiced their worries over my son’s meltdowns in public. They have expressed concern about my ability to adequately parent my children. Are my children wild? Yes. Do they have a home in which they have love and discipline? Also yes.  But to the untrained eye and a sneak peek into my life in a 5 minute spurt, I can see where it looks like my kids rule the roost. While those comments and judgements sting, I know that these well meaning people aren’t at fault for their ignorance. I was the same way until I had my children. A decade ago, if I saw a parent struggling to appease their child who was in the middle of a catastrophic meltdown, I would make a snap judgement regarding that particular person’s way of parenting, giving absolutely no thought that there may be something else going on with the child. I would sit there without helping and silently vow that I would never allow my future children to behave in such a manner. This was all before the universe decided to repay my karma in the way of my wild offspring. My children are wonderful and I love them dearly, but they are a massive handful that would have made my pre child self bite her tongue.

I made the decision to stay home with my children mainly because that is what they needed at that time. My oldest son was a permanent fixture in the principal’s office and was struggling with both in the classroom and on the playground. My youngest son was almost nonverbal at 3 years old and was displaying aggressive behaviors with the threat of losing his place in daycare. Working the amount that I was, not having family in the area to help and with no access to a nanny, my decision was there. My children were struggling. They needed access to different forms of therapy and they needed a constant presence of a parent to help them through their current transitions. The stars aligned and my husband and I could make do on one income, which unfortunately is not the case for many families.

I became a mother at the age of 19. Prior to that I had many ideas on what I wanted to do with my life in terms of a career and education but had no real plan. I was unable to fixate on one path. I wanted to do it all. Over the years my thoughts have not changed, I still want to do it all. At 28, I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. I have always been drawn to the aspect of writing and traveling. Meeting new people and experiencing different cultures.  I love the technical aspect of medicine. I love teaching new ideas and concepts to children and having their faces light up when the lesson finally clicks.  I took a sociology course in college and fell in love with it and wanted to teach at a college level.

Someday, when my children are in school all day. When they are well adjusted and do not require quite so much one on one. When I can eat breakfast before 11 am and can pee without an audience. Someday when I don’t survive on copious amounts of caffeine,  leggings, dry shampoo and smell faintly of baby spit up. Someday I will go back to school and decide to do it all. But today, I am where I am supposed to be. Yesterday my daughter rolled over for the first time and I was home to see it. Her brothers experienced every first at daycare. I am home every morning to wake my beautiful munchkins up and kiss them goodnight. I am here to help with homework, to make sure that participate in sports and to take them to the therapies that they  currently need. So to the well meaning PA I say to you,  I will go back to school someday. Not because I feel the need to do more with my life than motherhood or feel as though something is missing. I love being a mother. I will go back to school because I still want everything out of life. But for now I am trusting the timing of my life, and right now I am exactly where I need to be. Babies and all.

 

The Talk No Parent Wants to Have

Today I had to have a talk with my son that I never wanted to have and was in no possible way ready to have; as I’m sure a lot of other parents in this nation are feeling right now. It was about the school shooting that happend on Wednesday in Flordia.
He was telling me that he didn’t have school on Monday because it was President’s Day:

A: Does President’s Day mean that Trump won’t be our president anymore?

M: No, he will be our president for the next 3 years. Why do you ask?

A: I want Hillary Clinton to be our President because she said she would take guns away from the bad guys.

M: Well, buddy she said she would try, but why are you worried about bad guys and guns?

A: Because a bad guy took a gun into a high school in Florida and shot a bunch of kids. 17 kids died.

M: Yes that did happen, where did you hear about it?

A: Everyone at school was talking about it and on the bus. A bad guy isn’t going to take a gun into my school and shoot me, is he? I don’t want to get shot.

This was the conversation that I had to have with my 9 year old today. He is legitimately worried that someone will take a gun into his school and shoot him. What the fuck am I supposed to tell him? He is looking to me to find answers that will help ease the worry in his heart and I feel as though I am failing miserably. I asked if the school has talked to them about what to do if someone brings a gun to school and he said no.
I am filled with such anger and dread. School is supposed to be a safe place. I can’t lie to him in an effort to protect his innocence and tell him that it will never happen here and that he shouldn’t worry about it.
He will worry regardless and I don’t know for sure that it won’t happen in the small town that I was also raised in. So I was as honest as I could be and it killed me on the inside. I told him that horrible and tragic things happen in this world sometimes. What happened in Flordia was one of those horrible and tragic things. A bad man took a gun into a school and hurt a lot of innocent people. I told him that his dad and I would sit him down tonight and come up with a plan together for what he needs to do in case someone does bring a gun into his elementary school. I told him that in the face of these horrible things, the most important thing of all, is to know that he is loved beyond measure. That his father and I want him to grow up to be a brave and kind human. To stand up for the important things in life that he believes in and to stand up for the people who could not stand up for themselves. We wanted him to be a light in an often very dark world.

What happended in Florida was tragic and my deepest sympathies are with those whose families and friends were affected. I, personally, was not going to write a post about this shooting to begin with. I felt as though everything that could be said about this already has, that is until it became a very personal subject to me when faced with explaining to my child what to do in the event of a school shooting.

My feelings on the subject of guns is varied. While I am a self proclaimed liberal hippie, I do not want to see “all guns taken away and the reversal of the 2nd Amendment” as is the popular narritive thrown onto people who make such a claim. I was raised with guns. My family is one full of hunters and concealed carry permit holders. I full heartedly believe in the 2nd admendment and the rights of the constitution as well as the rights of responsible gun owners. I also believe that there should be more extensive background and mental health checks to those who own a gun. If you need a license to drive a car, you should need a license to own a firearm. I believe if you have children in the home you should keep guns under lock and key, with ammuntaion kept separate. I also believe that no one needs a semi automatic rifle. But in the end, these opinions and beliefs of a stay at home mom in Idaho do little in the way of affecting real change when it comes to gun control and the laws that binds them.

Politics aside, a change needs to happen. What kind of society do we live in where this threat is not only realistic but also happens way too often? Taking all the guns away isn’t the answer but neither is doing absolutely fucking nothing about a real epidemic. Giving thoughts and prayers to those involved has gotten hollow and stale. Kids should not be dying. If I were to lose one of my kids in that way, it would break me as a human. I have withstood and survived a bunch of other horrible shit but I could not survive that. We should have come up with a plan after Sandy Hook, and that was 5 years ago and we as a nation are in the exact same spot as we were then. Now we are teaching kids how to hide, or how to cause chaos to distract the shooter in the effort to save more lives. There needs to come a time when enough is enough. When parents don’t have panic attacks any time the school calls. When as a parent, you kiss them goodbye in morning and pray to God that they come home at night. When the thought of homeschooling has become a real train of thought in terms of safety. Children should not be dying. Teachers should not be laying down their lives. Our education system should not come equipped with a funeral parlor pamphlet.

In the end, I will do my best to make sure my son knows how much he is loved. I will come up with a plan to help him navigate the terror that seems to be commonplace now. And while I am not a religious person, I will pray that he comes home safely every night. I will be praying for the government to pull their heads out of the sand and make sure a real change does happen.