It’s tough to be a parent on days like today

When 9/11 occurred, my oldest son was three months old exactly that day.  In my mind, three months old was supposed to be a turning point.   I remember waking up that morning with a sense of hope—hope that this little person I brought into the world would start being a bit fun.  I hoped that he would go from being this little guy who peed, pooped, spit up, cried, and didn’t sleep through the night to one who slept more, cried less and smiled and laughed more. The sun was shining that day and I was filled with hope.  I went to bed that night wondering what kind of cruel world my son would grow up in. 155755_10201115174384248_1745292956_n

Yesterday was a similar day.  The energy from the Boston Marathon was incredible—and I was only watching from home.  I watched some of the local coverage of the race, did homework and chores around the house, ran errands and then the boys and I went for a bike ride for about an hour beginning at about 2 p.m.  I came home and uploaded a picture of us to Facebook and when I checked a notification on it a few minutes later, I saw friends posting about an explosion at the finish line and figured I should turn the television back on.  I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

I was horrified by what was occurring on the TV screen.  What the heck had happened?  I then thought of a childhood neighbor who was running, as well as a local radio personality who was running for Boston Children’s Hospital and—don’t laugh—Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block, who was running for charity also.  I didn’t think I knew anyone else who may have been there.  After checking social media, I discovered that all three were ok.

It was eery to watch the coverage of the attack, as I was looking at it through the lens of a mom who wanted to shield her children from some of the coverage, much like I did after the Newtown tragedy.  I knew it couldn’t be on 24/7 like the 9/11 coverage was when my oldest was just a baby.

When I heard that one of the deceased was an 8-year old boy, my heart sank.  I have an 8-year-old son.  This shouldn’t happen to small children.  It shouldn’t be a part of our children’s world, but it is.  And it stinks.

Give your kids some extra hugs today.  We live in a cruel world, but they need to feel the love around them.

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