The risk of living is dying

A tiny part of me felt reassured after the Aurora theater shooting because a midnight movie showing with my kids was never a situation I'd probably find myself in. 

And that somehow made me feel safer.

It's how anxious people like me cope. No judgment of parents and their choices, just how I get through the tragic events that plague our world and still leave my house every day. 

A Southeast Asian vacation was never on my life list so phew safe from possible tsunami. 

But today is a little more difficult, or really, a lot more, because every day I pack my kids up in the car, and most of the time I'm yelling or they're fighting or some combination of both. I get annoyed when the school door is locked when I drop them off or pick them up early, because having to knock on your own kids' school door seems wildly ridiculous until you realize that it's not at all. 

The bubble I had created to keep us all safe popped today. And as much as I know life is fragile and unpredictable, reminders like this make them so palpable. 

Because I've bought Christmas presents for my kids, stacked high in our dining room in huge boxes yet to be opened like everyone of those parents in Newtown did for their kids.

The stockings are hung by our chimney, waiting to be filled, then dumped with squeals of delight, sounds that the families won't ever hear again.

And every day I drop them off at school with total, absolute security, which is a pretty big deal for someone who has already thought out and prepared for all possible tragedies, like how to get out of a car that's sinking in water or talking to the kids about strangers or for 2012 "The Tricky Person" and so when the one completely mundane regular part of the day that for fuck's sake is definitely safe is suddenly, possibly unsafe, it's mind altering. 

Life shifting. 

There was news that my friend Victoria's nephew was killed at the school. My other friend Catherine's nephew, unrelated to Sandy Hook, can no longer breathe on his own. 

I've been trying to do better and be better, fighting marriage challenges and my own mother challenges and hormones GOD THE HORMONES and wanting so badly to not be short and overwhelmed for every other interaction with my kids.

I will not lie to you: Life has been wearing me out. 

But now it just has to be different. 

For too long, I've been surviving, pushing through each minute and hour to get to the end of the day for what? So I can plop my tired ass down on the couch and stare at the large television over my mantle where my kids' pretty stockings hang. And breathe. 

Each day is a complete blur. 

But see, I don't want to just breathe. 

Tonight I celebrated Drew's "Graduation" from needing tokens for staying in his bad with his favorite meal and cupcakes. Then we all skipped around the room with the music blasting, their tiny hands in mine, our shrieks and laughter so loud and deep that we were gasping for each bit of precious air. 

I want that more of this. These moments.

For me, for my kids, and for all the parents, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, and children who wish they had one more chance to laugh so hard they were struggling for air. 

It's the least we all can do to honor them. 

Comments

[Gina]

Yes. To all of it. ((Hugs))

[Katherine Stone (@postpartumprog)]

This is gorgeous Kristen. I've been thinking the same things since Friday. How do I remain more in the present? How do I make sure I'm seeing my kids in the clearest, deepest way on a daily basis, and not allow myself to tumble through life pell mell? This last year has worn me out, too, and it's got to change. Thank you for this post.

[Asianmommy]

You're right--these things tend to put things in perspective. We should cherish each day we have and spend our time doing the things we love with the people who mean the most to us.

[Meagan Francis]

I am also taking this (horrific) opportunity to examine my life and priorities and see where I can live more fully, be more awake. At the same time, I'm trying to give myself the grace to still be imperfect, because life goes on, you know?

[Alyssa S.]

Having lost someone suddenly and completely unexpectedly (though gratefully, not violently), I had to learn to come to grips with the fact that I could lose anyone I love at any time, without warning. It's a hard reality to face, but as I was deep in my grief, I marveled to see that all around me, life went on. And I learned that living in the moment was really the only way not to be paralyzed by fear of losing again.

I found this quote this morning, from one of my favorite Buddhist scholars:

""...Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know."

Pema Chodron

[Karen]

I got home tonight and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. Looked into their eyes and memorized each little twinkle and brightness. They will still fight, they will still make me tired, but they will never end a day without hearing the words "I love you." Ever.

[Amanda]

Incomprehensible and irrefutably so.

I hate it. My anger is all-consuming, this eerily soft boil that I have no idea how to contain or channel. After so many tragedies I feel like anything short of activism is being complicit in what may come.

I don't know what kind of activism, what kind of change it will take, but I will be searching all the while clinging to my abundance of delicate blessings.

[Rachel]

I used to bitch and moan and feel UPTOHERE every day with my kids, with my life. And then, one day, I had an thought that changed my life.

Be happy with what you have, because you don't realize how quickly it can be gone.

I've had this thought for the past year. Every time I'm feeling stressed, I realize this isn't so bad. Its just a stage. One day, if I'm really lucky, they'll be grown-ups and I won't have to worry about someone coming to my bed and peeing on me.

I tell my kids this: Every day you are alive, every day that you have someone who loves you IS A GOOD DAY.

K-- choose happiness. Choose to let the small stuff go. Because honestly-- and this whole school thing has shaken me up-- it can all be gone so fast.

[Mrs. Q.]

Beautiful.

[Julie Marsh]

I believe that many of us had similar endings to yesterday. It hurts my heart that some parents did not.

[Pgoodness]

Exactly. Thank you. It's hard not to feel guilt, but if the situation were reversed, I would expect the same.

[Asha Dornfest]

xoxoxo Thank you for sharing this, end everything else.

[Sarkytartlet]

Thank you for this.

[RoeH]

Thank you for this. I think a lot of feelings we all have are summed up here. I always have a hard time with these. But this one? I'll get myself together eventually, but right now, I'm in mourning for those beautiful children who did nothing to deserve this and their families. And for our country.

[Hillary Cannon]

Beautiful, K. Really beautiful. x

[Victoria Mason]

Really well written and my thoughts too. It took everything I had not to drag them out of school after I heard. I was so relieved when both L and R came home and my husband came home early from a trip. We were all together all afternoon and it was so rare and sweet. Last month I was paranoid this would happen at L's school and my consilation was that the doors are always locked. Last night as I tucked them in again and watched them sleep I began to cry as I thought of the families who were not getting this small but tremendous moment.

[Bossy]

Xo

[mom101]

Just when I start to hold it together...oof.

I love the ending to your day. Yes, let's have lots more of those.

[Dina]

Beautifully written. And comforting to know that ,contrary to my husband's belief, I'm not the only one who obsesses over sinking cars and stranger danger. Here's to living life!

[Larisa Spillman]

Yes. Just yes. Again, you say my thoughts so well. Thank you.

[Courtney]

Life is hectic, and too short. Thank you for this...

[Sonda]

Amen. You are so right. That's all we can do.