Post-Debate Emotional Hangover

The world is on fire, but at least there’s donuts.

There are days like today where I wake up with a splitting headache and dread in the pit of my stomach over the world I’ve brought my children into. This country specifically.

Me this morning. Frozen veggies on the head.

But then we’re in the car in New Mexico driving by a trailer park which leads to a convo about housing and Section 8 and I’m thankful that my 7 1/2 (Vivi) and 5 year old (Elise) already understand that people deserve to live with dignity. That money doesn’t make you good and a lack of money doesn’t make you bad or undesirable. That Vivi, although perceptive doesn’t understand all that’s going on, but from the little bit of the debate she caught understands explicitly that Donald Trump is not a good man. And that goodness should matter.

If my kids learn nothing else during this year of homeschooling – or in the entirety of their childhoods – I hope it is this: You should care passionately about other people. Fight for them. Vote for them. That’s it. I want them to care that people can’t afford healthcare. I want them to care that Black infants are more likely to die than White infants. I want them to put their privilege to work.

“That’s why your working to elect other people and get Donald Trump out of office, right? You want people who care about people and don’t lie.”

Exactly Vivi.

Keep fighting the good fight.

x Mere

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