accept. embrace. live.

As parents, we go to sometimes extraordinary lengths to protect our children.  We slather them with sunscreen to stave off skin cancer years down the road.  We feed them organic foods to avoid trace amounts of impurities. When they're babies, we put them to sleep on their backs, or their stomachs, depending on the latest study.  We cover electrical outlets with guards.  We go to the fire department to make sure the car seat is installed as tight as it can be.  We put helmets on them when they're riding bikes with training wheels.

And then in the blink of an eye, in a moment of carelessness, it's all for naught.  To save a walk of a few hundred feet, maybe.

A first-grader at my daughter's elementary school was killed yesterday, crossing the street with her mother.  They didn't use the crosswalk. The mother is in the ICU; the child is not.  I cannot imagine what that family must be going through right now.  I cannot imagine how one recovers from the loss of a child, young or otherwise.  My ex called me last night with the news and asked me to hug them a little tighter than usual.  This morning, I made sure I was ready a few minutes early so I could sit and cuddle with them on the couch as they watched their show.

It upsets me more than anything to hear about something bad happening to a child.  Watching news stories or reading articles about such things is too upsetting, so I don't.  I suppose having a kindergartner and a preschooler exacerbates the upset.  I drove S. and G. to school this morning and watched the other moms in car line.  Many of them were wiping tears from their eyes or covering their mouths, as was I.  I wondered what was going through the principal's mind as she just-a-little-bit-less gaily waved at the arriving students.  My ex sometimes calls in the morning to say hello to the kids on the mornings that I have them.  Much of the time, I don't answer because it's just too busy.  I answered this morning.

Will you promise me that you'll use the crosswalk?