Frozen.

I have a lot of work that has popped up today, so I arranged to drop Cullen off at a friend’s house so he could play and I could write.  I gave him a kiss, watched him wave goodbye from the window and headed over to the coffee shop.

I ordered a large iced tea, sat down at my favorite table, and opened up my laptop – ready to tell you all about the cookies we baked yesterday.

A quick glance at my Twitter feed and I realized something was very, very wrong.  I opened up my browser and saw the headline about the mass shooting at an elementary school in Connecticut.

I can’t talk about cookies.  I can’t talk about anything.  I feel simultaneously frozen, and like I could explode from the inside at the same time.

I don’t think anyone else in here knows what is going on.  I am the only one with a laptop out, and most people are relaxing and chatting with friends.  I feel like screaming and sobbing and dropping to the floor in the middle of the room.

I immediately texted my sister in New Haven.  She and her family are safe.  She was crying at her desk.  How does this happen?

There is nothing to say, so I won’t even bother.  There is no way to imagine what the parents and families of these children feel like.  And I hope I never have to.

One of my favorite parenting quotes is this…

“Making the decision to have a child – It’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” – Elizabeth Stone

I am not an outwardly religious person, but I will say a prayer tonight.  I will squeeze Cullen and hold him tight, and I will try not to think about the little beds that will not be slept in tonight.