I woke up early today to get some more work done on my Nano novel, as I have been doing every day since November 1. But I can’t. No, I really can’t.

I stepped into my office and nearly retched. I saw one headline and began to sob. I knew the result in the wee hours, but the headline read, “What do we tell the children?”

My husband said I should stay home from work. He’s probably wishing I had stayed in bed so we could hold each other and put off starting this day a little longer.

But I didn’t. I got up, put my yoga pants on and came in my office to write. I took a quick detour to TheBoy’s room and held him tight for a moment, and now I’ve started my day.

I won’t miss work today, even thought we have suffered two sleepless nights and I still feel like I could vomit right here on the keyboard. I’ll get The Boy ready for school, and we will go about our normal routine. I will pull my loved ones around me like a cloak, and we will love each other, work hard, and play, just as we have.

I will also make phone calls and write letters until my local and state politicians know my name. Just because there is an R next to their name doesn’t mean they don’t work for me. And we have work to do.

Now that guy at the top? He doesn’t work for anybody. Don’t be fooled. Let’s just hope they gave him fake codes.

We have to sit tight and hunker down for three and a half years. And then we’ll have to make one hell of a noise if there’s anything left to fight for.

What do we tell the children? We tell them that sometimes even adults make mistakes, and that just like when you break a plate, saying you’re sorry doesn’t fix it, our country is broken right now. But when things get broken, we try to fix them first before throwing them away. And we’ll need their help to do that.

That’s what we tell them.