I don't have a title today.

This will be somewhat depressing post, as I feel depressed.

Currently a local radio station is holding their annual Roofsit for Kids fundraising event. They sit on a roof for 48 hours and raise money to stop child abuse in West Michigan. People call in from all over and tell their stories. They break my heart, and I wish that I could donate as much as it would take to stop these monsters.

I can't even describe the article that I just read about a 15 week little girl. I'm not going to try. It is too heinous, and I truly hope that I forget it happened because it's so unbelieveable. I'm hoping that someday my children will read this blog and I don't want to taint their brains or put images in their heads.

All my children need to know is that parents have one main job and a neverending amount of other jobs. The main job of a parent is to protect their children. It's not a hard concept. You make sure they are fed, and changed, and warm in their jammies at bedtime. You make sure the doors to the steps are closed, and that there are plugs in the electrical outlets. Do accidents happen? Yes. Of course they do. Just last night Nathan left his razor by the side of the sink and Declan almost put it in his mouth. Once I put a hot dish too close to Cash and he burned his fingers when he touched it. I felt terrible. Things happen.

But to voluntarily abuse your children. To hit them because of problems in YOUR life. To tell them they are worthless and will never succeed. To violate their tiny bodies and take away their innocence. I do n.o.t. understand.  These are the people that can just go to hell. Not someday, when they are 90 years old. But now.  God can just take them away. Or the government can put them in an electric chair. I'm ok with that too. Just put these children somewhere safe. They need to be protected.

If you decide to have children, love them.  Or, even if you don't love them - maybe they were an unwelcome surprise - protect them by putting them with a family who WILL love them. There are thousands of parents out there who just need a child to love.

Scariest part of parenting for me is not being able to protect my children as they get older. I'll do the best I can. But I will never hit them. I will never tell them they are worthless. I will never beat or tear them down to make me feel better. The end.

Oh, and if you don't buckle your children into their carseat or make them wear a belt, shame on you. Even if you are a great parent, that is a fail. You aren't protecting them.

My silly boys

This one is for my Cashy and Dooby.

You are now 2 and 3, although Cash is edging his way into 4 in a matter of weeks.  We are planning on having a monster-themed party. But "nice" monsters, because Declan doesn't like scary monsters.

You two get along most of the time. Declan has to do everything that his bro-bro does, and most of the time Cash, you encourage him to do well. Although a few of those times you are, let's say, not so supportive.

You both love playing on the iPad. I think you like Mom's more than Dad's, but each have their own games at which you you enjoy and excel. You are both learning numbers, letters, and pick up more and more phrases every day. 

I love it when Cash says, "Apparently."  "Apparently, the ducks are really hungry because they are coming over so fast!"  I love it when Declan sticks his pointer finger up in the air to emphasize a point.  "O-tay, Mommy, and I'm going to be good boy!"  I love it when you laugh and giggle even after we turn out the lights and tuck you in. Then we have to go in and pretend to be not-very-happy that Declan is in Cashy's bed and you have super tight grips around each other's necks. But secretly, I am happy that you love each other so much.

Some of your favorite things to do are:

• Go for a bike ride where Daddy pulls you (especially if we end up at the ice cream shop)
• Go to the little place to get hot dogs (and sometimes ice cream)
• Jump off the couch onto the pillows (which is only an activity we do when Daddy is watching you)
• Go golfing with Daddy (and it's nice when Mommy comes, too)
• Go to the store (at Family Fare they have free popcorn, and at Meijer they have free cookies and a horse)
• Drop stuffed animals on your head from way up high when we tuck you in so you can catch them
• Hide from Daddy when he comes home from work so he thinks we aren't there
• You love to go camping. Particulary when you can run all over the camper without touching the floor

There is so much more. I'll have to come back and keep adding.  Mommy and Daddy love you both so much and cherish all the time that we have together. Please don't stop snuggling and kissing your Mommy. I think my heart would break.

Things my mother told me

In the fall I start thinking of my mom more than usual. This is around the time that she died and Suicide Awareness is all around. I even went back and listened to some voicemails from her that I have saved. That sounds weird, but it's actually kind of comforting.

I think she would be surprised at some of the lessons that she taught me that stuck. Things a child picks up on just by being around a parent. I still don't drink pop before 11am. Ever. I'll drink coffee and creamer it up enough that it probably has more calories than my beloved Dr. Pepper, but you know... coffee is a morning drink. Pop isn't to be drunk until after 11. Ever.

No tv in the mornings. We just don't do it. Morning time is for getting ready. You can read a book. Play in your room. Go back to sleep until it's time to go. But no tv. (She also didn't like radio music on in the morning either - which I made her listen to once I became an adult and was driver of the car -with it turned down low, of course.)  I don't whole-heartedly follow the no tv rule. Sometimes my boys watch a show in the morning while I'm getting ready. It keeps them happy and quiet.... until I turn it off. Then it's Meltdown City. And I think to myself, "Maybe my mother was on to something with the 'no-tv' rule."

I'm happy to say that I'm a giver. I get that from her - from both my parents actually. I donate time, energy, money when I have it.  I'm not sure if I've ever met a more giving person than my mother. If she ever saw a way to help, she would. When she heard of a neighbor's daughter's house burning down, she started a campaign in the apartment complex that she lived in to get them resources. When someone was sick, she'd come over and take care of them. When I had to work a lot, she'd come over and do my laundry. I'm so glad that I got that trait from her (except the love of doing laundry).

Don't get me wrong, she was sometimes a nutso energy sucker, but that's a blog for another time (or not).

I don't delude myself into thinking the last few years were great. They weren't that great. But they weren't that bad, and I'm happy that I was able to have a few years with her living close. I know that I tried my hardest to be a good and forgiving daughter, and to put up with her nuttiness because I knew that someday (probably not too far away) I wouldn't have a mother anymore. As crazy as she was, I miss her. She was my mom. Sometimes she is in my dreams and she's just Mom. I can hear her voice and she's usually being a little manic, but it's a comfort to me. I wake up and am happy that I was able to feel like I had a mom again, just for a few minutes.

I hate how much she's missing and how she made the choice to miss it. My children growing up. Her great-granddaughter being born. The last Twilight movie. Her two non-athletic daughters running a triathlon together. Sad.

But I do my best to keep her memory alive. We talk about Grammy with the boys. We look at pictures, and talk about the books Grammy gave Cash, or when she took him to the park, or held Declan for the first time. That's all we can do.