About Me

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Married to GI Joe, and the Mother to GI Joe Jr (whom is currently addicted to the Wonderful World of Superheroes), I'm a WV Hillbilly plunked down in a subdivision. I have a backyard garden, crazy neighbors, and a goofy dog that we love on Tuesdays. We love to travel and explore new things, so feel free to browse our life. Sometimes it is exciting, most of the time it is just life. But we are having a good time at it.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012


I am not the most religious person on the planet.

I question God.  I question the whole notion of a 'supreme being'.  I question them all.  Hindu, Jewish, Christian, etc.

I was raised Methodist.  I am more than happy to experience various religions and find their traditions fascinating.  I bow my head along with everyone else.  I'm not a screaming Atheist that doesn't want people to pray...ever.  I have no problem with it.  What they feel is what they feel.  What I feel is what I feel.  I respect their feelings and find the experiences educational and spiritual in my own way.

But I've never felt religion deeply.  I accept them all for face value and keep happily plugging along.

But Kiddo has started asking about God.

I mean, the child goes to a Church Preschool. He's starting to wonder who this 'God is Great' guy is all about.

The Husband and I have not been big on going to Church.  We just haven't.  Lots of excuses.  I won't list them.

So I picked up some Bible story books for Kiddo's age at the Library. 

After last week's events in Connecticut, I figured it was about time to try a little soul searching.

So we read the story of Noah last night....

I thought he'd be more interested in the animals all on the Ark.

Not so much...he was more interested in the rainbow at the end.

But when I read the paragraph "God watched them, these people who would continue the world.  Humans are not perfect, God thought.  There is an evil corner in their hearts. Perhaps they will learn goodness one day.  In the meantime, I made them, and must accept them as they are".

Oh wow. 

And it was not lost on me that they buried little Noah yesterday.  In Connecticut. 

But my heart has healed a little.  Just a crack.  Just a smidge. 

A tiny bit.

Monday, December 17, 2012


I'm trying.
Really I am.
I'm trying to not look at my five year old and cry.
I want to kneel down in front of each and every child that comes into our practice and hug them.
I want to pat the top of all their beautiful little heads.
The little girl with glasses and missing teeth today was the most beautiful child ever.  Her smile was just stunning.
And I had to turn and pretend to send a fax as my eyes filled with tears.
I can't talk about this at work.  I can't talk at home.
I am attending my son's 'Sing Along' program tomorrow and I know I'll cry at some point.  Hoping to make it to the car afterwards before I let it loose.
Because there are twenty parents in Connecticut that won't get to do that. 
Instead they are burying their children.
That's just so wrong. 
So very very wrong.

Sunday, December 16, 2012


I heard about the Connecticut shooting at work.
I heard three people were dead.  Oh ok...another co worker shot up fellow coworkers.  Domestic issues gone wrong.
I was so very wrong. Very very wrong.
In this town in Connecticut, there are 20 sets of parents of first graders that are having to deal with Christmas presents, empty rooms, dirty laundry, and the loss of their child.
How do you go on?
I've cried myself stupid.
For my own sanity, I have not read a report, nor watched the news since Friday.  I cannot get on Facebook either.
I want to curl into a ball and sob my eyes out for parents that I don't even KNOW.  The grief is so striking...so painful.  I feel like I've been kicked.  I feel sad.  Sad isn't a good word.  I'm just hurt...
My Kiddo is five.  What the fuck would I do?  How would I go on?  How do you keep breathing?  How do you keep moving?  How do you not just die yourself?
I couldn't.
I've been to a toddlers funeral.  I still grieve for that child, and it's been seven years.  She was not mine.  I was not a mother at the time of her death.  But I still grieve.  Her parents have pushed through and are just wonderful people with very full lives for their children.  But I cannot for the life of me imagine having to push through.
I can't imagine the fear and terror these children experienced in that chaos...I cannot imagine their pain and confusion.
I just can't.
I flash to the face of my own child and the thoughts of what I would do.  I keep putting myself there.
My heart aches.  It just hurts so bad.  I want to get in the car and drive there and hug someone and say I am sorry.  So very very very sorry.
As I hug my fiesty child that has no idea this horrible evil ever happened.
My five year old.
With his presents from Santa waiting in the closet. 
And his dirty laundry strung everywhere.
And I am grateful that my child is safe and well, and happy. 
But those poor parents...those poor families...it hurts so badly. 
That town will never be the same.  How do you heal from that?  How do you ?
I have no answers.  Just grief for these parents.  The hopes that the news story will change. 
But it won't. 
And these kids are gone.
And the Christmas trees are lit.

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