Ten years later

I’ve been wavering all day, whether I should write about the 10th anniversary of Columbine or not. Yes, no. Yes, no. But I think I’ll feel better if I just jot a note here.

Ten years ago I was driving from the University of Colorado out into the boonies where Tom taught, to pick him up and head home. I turned on the radio, but not in the mood for music, scanned for something else. What I heard was horrifying. A shooting at a local high school, and it was bad. That’s all I heard at first, and understandably, I panicked. My husband taught at a local high school. I listened…and heard more…knew he was safe…and that it was really, really bad. The panic and chaos came through the radio in waves.

So much has been written and dissected about Columbine in the last ten years, and there is nothing I could possibly add. I feel for the parents. All the parents. We forget that there were two other families affected that day. We forget because we don’t want to give the killers the satisfaction of remembering them. But they’re dead too, and their families grieve for them as well. They grieve in a way we cannot understand, for their children created the panic and chaos and death. As a childless teacher, I blamed them; how could they not know what was going on? As a parent, I no longer place such wide blame. My life would forever change if my child died…my life would end if my child killed others before taking his own life.

Ten years after the fact, I sit here today about the same time I found out about the shootings, watching my sons play outside, running and chasing and laughing in the sun. And I have hope for the future.



We love you, Angie. Because of you, we KEEP BELIEVING. We believe because of your strength, your courage, and your faith. Happy Anniversary, dear Angie. As my oldest son says…often…Brian is still there with you, alive in your heart. He is wise beyond his eight years. Have a day full of happy memories, full of family, and full of love. We know you will KEEP BELIEVING.

If only I had a thought-recording cap then I’d write a lot more often

There’s really not a whole lot going on around here. Well, there is the small matter of the ark. An ark, you ask? Yes, an ark. We’ve been building one in the backyard. Cubits and the whole deal. Don’t know if we’ll be able to find two of every animal, so we’ll just start with ourselves and whatever lovies the boys can haul in there.

It’s been raining. A lot. If you’ve seen any national news, you may have noticed that Denver has been hit with a major spring snowstorm. We got rain. A lot of rain. Torrential downpour for 48 hours, with the occasional heavy snow. I could tell we were right on the edge of rain/snow. We’d get rain, the temperature would drop a degree and we’d get big, fat, snowy flakes, the winds would shift and raise the temperature half a degree and we’d be back to rain. The ground is sodden and muddy. It’s supposed to be almost 80 on Wednesday, so I suppose this is the end of winter. It’s better be the end of winter.

But I have a lot going on right now. Not necessarily in daily life, though that is a lot, but just lots to think about. And that’s taking up my blog-thinking. Things might be a little light around here for awhile. And in a mere five days I’m heading up into the mountains with my four favorite crazy girlfriends for four wonderful days of scrapbooking, drinking, hottubbing, drinking, laughing, drinking, talking, and drinking. These retreats are my favorite times of the year and are rejuvenating more than I can say.

So if you come across one of those thought-recording caps, let me know. Right now I’d love some help getting the maelstrom of thoughts out of my head.

Friday morning thoughts

You know you’re an experienced mom of boys when you open the bedroom door and find the two of them (sigh) roasting mini marshmallows in the shape of Easter Bunnies on plastic chopsticks shaped like animals in front of the space heater and you don’t freak out. They’re buzzing from the sugar right now.

Colorado’s Wacky Weather continues. Ten minutes ago it was pouring rain, now it’s snowing like crazy. We could get 10-22 inches of snow today. And it’s going to be in the mid-70s by Tuesday.

Despite the crazy climate, all four of us have allergies and are snotting all over the place. If you think that’s a charming mental image, come visit and have a listen too.

I’m trying to decide how badly I want the milk out in the milk box right now. I mean, it’s not like it’s going to get warm sitting out there. I just don’t want to step outside and get it and the paper.

A has a doctor’s appointment in Boulder this afternoon, right after school. I’m thinking the weather is going to be bad enough that we may need to cancel. The question is, though, will we be charged for the last-minute postponement? ‘Cause this doctor isn’t covered by insurance and I’m not too keen on paying for the visit twice.

Perhaps I’ll have a more thought-provoking post later today…

So I may have broken WordPress

Don’t know how, but something’s broken. Took forever to post Sunday’s post, had to do it on Monday after much gnashing of teeth and ripping of garments. And now comments are all borked up. I reply to comments 99% of the time…and just noticed that the “reply to” address is now wordpress and not the commenter’s email. So if you haven’t gotten a reply from me, know that I did reply, and it’s now floating around in the internets. In the internets, no one can hear you scream.


This means I will actually have to fix it. Fix something I did not break, do not know how to fix, and don’t want to fix. Because comments are crack to me. I live for comments. Otherwise, I’m just talking to myself, and I do enough of that in real life. Give me comments, and that’s one less bang of the head on the desk. Or something. And I won’t just be able to fix one little thing. I’ll end up with a whole freaking makeover…something I’ve wanted to do for awhile, but have been putting off. That’s what happened when I was over with Blogger. I just wanted to be able to reply to comments without having to jump through high flaming hoops, and ended up moving the whole shebang here.


So, leave me comments that I may or may not be able to reply to. Watch this space for more head banging and maybe, just maybe, a new look. (Crap!!!! Now I have to do it! Stupid comments getting all borked up!) Send me some sanity; we’re 4 1/2 weeks from summer vacation and we may very likely get hit with a heavy spring snowstorm on Friday.

Oh, and send me a goat. My damned sweet, loving husband has this superstitious Cubs flag thing going on, and he borked it up this week. I need a goat to try to counteract it.

And yes, borked is the word of the week. Pass it on.

‘Cause the struggle is FUN!

See the smile plastered on my face?

See the threats coming out the clenched teeth?

See the relief when the phone rings?

This is me, every week, struggling with J and his violin lessons. He can’t help it, he’s four. I can’t help it, I’m 35 and have three music degrees.

Signing him up this year was a raging mistake. Shouldn’t have done it, but my common sense was apparently out to lunch that day. Hope it was a good lunch…maybe sushi and saki. Yeah, common sense can go out to lunch for sushi and saki; fast food no.

But it’s one thing to struggle to get him to practice…and damn, it’s a struggle. It’s another thing entirely to go through that struggle, only to have his lesson canceled with an hour notice.

J’s teacher has GOT to be the sickliest person on the planet. We have missed more lessons than have taken this term. I do not want to make them up. I want the term to end and return the teeny tiny violin. The teacher is a nice guy, just doesn’t do all that well with very young kids, and gets sick at the drop of a hat.

On the plus side, I’m sitting here typing instead of dragging him off to a lesson that will end with me grounding him for his poor attitude. And it’s sunny out, so I’m throwing both my children to the park, with express instructions to not return until dinner or Armageddon, whichever comes first.

Ahh…character is built through struggle, right? In that case, my character is a shining example to all around me.

You’re welcome.


Easter morning

(I think wordpress hit sugar crash yesterday afternoon; I tried forever to get this written and posted yesterday. Everything was borked.)

In the wee hours of the morning, when the adults are still snoozing, young boys awaken and sneak down the stairs. They tiptoe into the family room and discover the Easter Bunny has paid a visit! They peek into the baskets and LO! There is candy and it is good. Curiosity of how EB got into the house, of how he digs out the baskets from the basement without waking anyone, of how the Peeps are the exact same ones Mom bought at Target earlier in the week…all this is wiped from their minds as they gaze over the sugar.

Everything else is wiped from their minds within an hour, after 90% of that sugar has been consumed. The parents awaken just in time for the sugar crash, which coincides with breakfast (HA!) and church preparations. Much threatening negotiating ensues.

At least they’re cute.