God. I think of the times when my kids were little and I didn’t want to wake them but I had to stop at the store on the way home…that poor, poor mama. She will never be able to forgive herself for something that would have been nothing if it weren’t for three young men who felt that they were entitled to something that didn’t belong to them.

I’m just sick.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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