And still.

Everything I feel I can not adequately express. Everything I think to write has already been written. But I can't not acknowledge. I don't want to add anything to the infamy surrounding this man and his actions. But right now I am craving community.

My heart is still heavy, so very heavy. I think it will be for a long time. For those babies, for their parents, for the loved ones of those teachers, for the classmates and colleagues who must find a way to breathe and carry on in impossible circumstances, for our broken nation.

I'm terrified for my child. I hold her to me with both arms stretched across her tiny body, I hold her so she can't get away, so she can't be taken. Because it feels like this world is coming for her. Coming to take her from me, and I can't bear it. I take in her smile and the way she kicks her feet against the floor. Her hand clasp and the dip in her upper lip. The fuzzy hair and stretch of thick black lashes that frame her brown eyes. Her nose, my nose, that crinkles when her smile starts to turn in to a laugh. I rock her to sleep every night, and before I lay her down, I inhale until her baby sweetness fills my lungs. I put her down with tears in my eyes and thank our heavenly Father for another day with this one.

I am waiting with the rest of you. Waiting to see how our leaders will respond. What they will deem "the answer", and what they will overlook. I'm waiting for them to attack the method and ignore the madness. It's so much bigger than gun control or mental health or anyone's constitutional rights. It is the entirety of our culture. Of our society and its ills and vices. And what can I do? What can I do to ensure my child's future is worth having? To be able to send her school not 4 or 5 years from now without a gun in the classroom for her supposed protection? To go to a movie without planning an escape? To be rid of this tightness in my chest?

I can pray, and oh how I do. Constantly. Trying to give my fears to the Lord and not take them back. And I can try to be good. And I can, God willing, raise my daughter to do the same.



When my spirit is weighted, my hands crave something useful to do to lighten the load. I love this project and will be participating.

From that status of Kim Haskill Stanfied:

If you know a teacher, or have kids in a school, please pass on:

A building has been designated to house the students from Sandy Hook Elementary School. They are in the process of transporting desks, chairs, supplies and so forth to this location. My neighbor is the president of the Newtown PTA and we met tonight discussing what we can do to make these children feel comforted upon their return
to school.

Please join us in "The Snowflake Project".

We are asking your students to make and decorate a snowflake. We will hang them in the hallways at the stark, new building where the Sandy Hook students will be returning. PLEASE NO WORDS! We want just a cheerful, happy (glitter and sparkle) environment for the students entering the new building.

Please pass on to any teachers you think may want to participate.

When you send your snowflakes, please include a note to tell us where they are from (your school, class, town, etc) to display along with your snowflakes. You can send them to me directly, and I will give them to our PTA.

**UPDATED ADDRESS**
Connecticut PTSA 
60 Connolly Parkway 
Building 12, Suite 103 
Hamden, CT 06514

Thank you so very much!

A break for hilariousness.

In the throes of laundry and bottle sterilizing and continuing the streak of not shaving my legs, but this is on the internets and I think we all need to take a moment, pour a holiday gin, and read Hipster Puppies.

Because...

mango muttered something about auto emissions and then flicked a second cigarette butt into the woods

And also...

there was an npr story about that, let me find it

And my personal favorite...

penny fears kindles because “then how are people going to know what you’re reading?”

Smirks.