I’ve got nothing. Not a darned thing. Nothing funny or moving or witty or wise to give you this week. Sorry.

Oh, I’m sure my kids were funny and moving and witty and wise (well, weisenheimers, maybe), but really, this week, such moments didn’t get much air. Instead, they were smothered by the bigger stuff. What bigger stuff? Oh, take your pick. Guns and alligators and vile words, and then more guns. Everywhere we turned, more horrifying news. More unbelievable noise. More gobbledygook. More garbage being uttered, being consumed, being believed. It’s really just too much. I find I’ve been holding my breath, forgetting to exhale. Yes, these things, they take my breath away. My children, my children.

Aside from feeling breathless, I’m sad. And maybe a bit numb. But perhaps “perplexed” is a more apt description for the way I’ve been feeling lately? Yes.

Do you ever just stop and shake your head and marvel at how surely we must be spinning in an alternate universe? And that somehow, someday, we’ll all suddenly wake up, brush the sleep from our eyes, pat each other on the back, and marvel at what a bizarre ride THAT was? I sure do. I mean, why can’t we all just get our acts together and be kind? Just be nice? Don’t be right, or first, or fastest. Just be nice. In every moment, in every encounter, just be nice. How hard is that?

It really is that simple. It’s a choice. If enough of us choose it, maybe the others will follow, eventually. It’s too late for some, those seeds have already taken root. But maybe the rest of us? We could choose it. We could agree to jump off this runaway train, all at once. Together. It could happen, if we wanted it badly enough. Until that time comes, though, there will be more guns. More noise. More jockeying for position. More everything. Oh, my children.

I don’t know about you, but if this keeps up I’ll pass out from the sheer weight of it all, unless I learn to catch my breath from time to time. You know, take a break from the grief and worry.

The other day, after several hours of toiling over the tedious, regular, stuff-of-life-that-must-be-done, I took a dip in a pool, a pool I’d not known existed even a mere few hours before. It was like going on a mini-vacation. In a setting so lovely and unexpected, so serene and quiet, but for the birdsong, the occasional splash, the random giggles from the girls in my charge. It was heaven.

As I floated aimlessly, the cool water lapping at my shoulders, the tension I’d not known I’d been holding slipping down and out through my toes, I realized that I’d had no idea how stressed I’d been feeling. What a relief. Lesson learned. But oh, how I hope we do wake up soon from the spells we’ve been under, before it’s too late for the rest of our children.

Jennifer DuBose lives in Batavia with her family. Her column runs regularly in the Kane Weekend section of the Kane County Chronicle. Contact her at editorial@kcchronicle.com.