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At least they like each other. Sometimes. When they are going at each other, as siblings are prone to do, most times I let them "duke" it out. Other times I step in and make it stop. I tell them that life is too short to be fighting this way. Especially over who sits in the end seat on the couch. There are two ends people. 

Getting them to understand that someday all they'll have is each other is so hard. They get that we're all going to die someday but they don't get that when Mama and Daddy are gone? They have each other. I mean yes, they have cousins and aunts and uncles and all that good stuff but still. Life is too short.

When September 11 happened, the husband and I had just moved in together. We'd been dating for 7 months and were planning our wedding for the following summer. He snores so I was sleeping in the recliner in the living room. He went to work. I slept in. Ahh, I miss those days. Darn kids. 

When I was in that half awake, half asleep mode, I was irritated that all the channels were showing news. Gah! I though the president has taken over the tv again. What. The. Hell? I figured I should at least see what was going on. I, like everyone else, was shocked.

I called my husband at work immediately and told him what was going on. He went into their break room to turn on the tv and I don't think anyone left that room. I don't think I got up once to go to the bathroom that day. I was in such shock that I stayed in my chair. I cried and smoked a pack of cigarettes. 

When there are shows on tv about September 11, I try not to watch them in front of my kids. I know that makes me a horrible parent to some. You must let the children see that bad things happen in this world. You must use this to teach them compassion and understanding. You can't protect them from the bad in this world. 

My kids know what happened that day. They know that some men took over the planes and purposely flew them into the buildings. They know that 3,000 + people died. Innocent people. Children, mamas, daddies, grammas, grampas. They know and they get it. Thing is? My children don't need to see the images. They don't need to see the plane hit Tower 2. They don't need to see the towers fall to the ground. They don't need to see the terror on the faces of those that were running from Ground Zero covered in ash.

My children are just that, children. They ask questions. They talk about it. They *really* talk about it. They have nightmares. They draw pictures showing how they feel. They get what happened. They don't need to watch it with me. Some things are just for Mama and Daddy to watch. 

When they are older and more capable of processing emotions, then I will teach them more about what happened. Until then? I, the alleged adult here, still haven't processed my own feelings about that day. I'm still emotional (as anyone should be), confused, pissed, worried, all of this and so much more. 

Life is too short people. Love the ones your with, remember those no longer with us. Show kindness, compassion and an open heart to yours and the world.


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