Decade.

It's official. Today, we're measuring our lives in decades. That makes me feel both old and important. I've been on this Earth long enough to have decade-old memories. Most people over the age of 20 have big memories by which they mark time. Early in my kids' lives, two events definitely marked time. When C was a few weeks shy of her first birthday, I sat in horror in front of our tiny TV in our bedroom watching coverage of the Columbine High School shootings after I received a call from our babysitter (who had attended Columbine before coming to the University) saying, shaken, that she would be late. I told her to stay home and I would stay home.

I remember C was watching Blue's Clues downstairs while I watched the coverage in disbelief. I couldn't imagine ever having a high-school age child, much less ever feeling safe enough to send her to school after what I had just seen. I wondered how the parents of the victims and shooters must be feeling and lost a whole lot of faith in humanity. Then, I watched the coverage in the days that followed and couldn't believe that, despite the losses and questions and tragedy, life went on. It was both a hard lesson and a great lesson. We're built to move past tragedy and we did.

In the end, our babysitter came to work anyway. She said she needed the normalcy and could use a day of cartoons, goldfish crackers, and Cheerios. I decided I would stay home with her and with C because cartoons and Cheerios (I loathe goldfish crackers) seemed like the best medicine.

Having forgotten all of those "lost faith" feelings, we had another sweet baby in 2001. R was born on 7/4 and was a drooling, giggling chub by 9/11. I was a stay-at-home mom to R and C and I watched the Today Show every morning while I made breakfast and then fed everyone. I remember the coverage in a sort of dreamlike state. It took me nearly 30 minutes to realize I should turn it off to avoid traumatizing C, now 3. So, that morning, too, was filled with Blues Clues, uncertainty, and quick trips to the upstairs TV to see what was going on. Every time the news got worse and I swore I would stop watching. I reached out to all of the people that meant the most to me via email (I didn't feel like talking on the phone).

My stories of both of these days are entirely unremarkable but important nonetheless. I was happy to be with my kids, happy to have the clarity of who those "important call" friends of mine are, and, after a little bit of searching, happy to know that my more distant family members were also safe. I watched more TV coverage in those few days than I thought possible.

That day will forever be tied to "Superman" by Five for Fighting. I still can't listen to it without getting a little choked up.



I'm not 100% in love with the U.S. reaction to the attacks but I am in love with the USA of the days that followed 9/11. There is a whole lot of goodness that can be tapped when necessary - whether it be in response to national tragedies or, as the years that have followed have taught me, personal ones.