Friday's Aftermath

Was at the boys' school twice this morning: once to drop off a project for Thing One and pick up a school board packet, and once later to help my mom find Thing Two's classroom so she could read to his class.

Now, we have always had good security measures in place at this school.  The school board had all the doors and locks replaced over this past summer, too.  I don't think anyone felt unsafe there until Friday. Probably someone with semiautomatic weapons and mayhem in his heart could shoot through the front doors of our school as well. At any rate, when I went in the first time today, there was a locksmith working by the main doors and a state trooper in the parking lot.

The faculty had a meeting before the school day started to decide how to talk to the kids.  The counselors will be available all day.  The principal cancelled a meeting we were supposed to have this morning because she needed to spend the time in classrooms talking to frightened children instead.  When I dropped off Thing One's project, there were two men I'd never seen before in his classroom (his teacher is small and female) and it really shook me.  I actually stood out in the hall for a while watching them do math games with the kids.  Crazy as it sounds, even though what they were doing was innocent, I was glad that the teacher came out to get the poster and that she looked okay.  The second time I went to school, while Mom was reading, I was looking around Thing Two's classroom wondering if there were enough hiding places for 19 kids in that room.  What a hell of a way to think and live.

Now, this is where I probably piss a bunch of people off, but it is what it is.  If you have a child with known mental health issues, you don't buy a bunch of goddamned guns, keep them around the house and teach him to shoot on top of it. You just fucking don't.  Yes, we need to have major national discussions about mental health.  We need to help these people, destigmatize their disease, find better meds with fewer side effects and make effective counseling available.  Totally, 110% on board with that.  But the sad reality is that some people just can't be independent and do whatever they want to do.  Civil rights my ass.  You get your civil rights right up until the point where you become a menace to society, and then somebody else needs to step in and save you from yourself and save all those innocent souls as well.

I looked a bunch of beautiful small children in the eyes this morning.  Any bastard mentally sick enough to aim at even one of them and pull a trigger has no goddamn business being on the loose.

Welcome Home, Matt

I first met him when he was 7.  It was my first Thanksgiving with Himself's family, and he was sitting next to me at the dinner table.  He was the youngest cousin, full of personality even then.  What I remember most about that night (about him, anyway) was that he had somehow gotten hold of a can of whipped cream and managed to spray about half of it into his mouth before his mom caught him.

Fast forward a few years.  His mother passed away unexpectedly, and complications from that event tore apart a good chunk of the extended family.   After a rough patch, his father managed to get him into a good private high school, where he did well.  But then he decided to enlist in the Army right after graduation against his dad's wishes, following in the footsteps of his three older half-brothers (two Army, one Marine.)  After Basic Training, he was shipped to Afghanistan for a full tour.

He got back home two days ago, thankfully in one piece.  The police force of his town sends someone to pick up every returning serviceman/woman at the local airport as a show of respect, and he was no exception.  The rest of his return was a little different, though.

His dad is a local judge, very tightly tied into the community.  His dad was so far beyond overjoyed about the safe return of his son that he organized a huge surprise welcome-home party .  150+ people in the ballroom of a local hotel.  Friends, neighbors, family down to the smallest kids, mine and others'.  A state senator.  A state representative.  The mayor of the town.  And not one person spilled the beans.

Kid got off the plane.  Cops and his dad picked him up.  They said there was a police benefit dinner that night, and would he please stop by quickly and say a few words.  He walked into the room to a standing ovation.

   
The politicos said a few words, but they were short and sweet.  Then he took the microphone.  It's hard for me to remember that he's grown up now.  He's 20, and much more man than the boy I first met.  But his presence when talking to an unexpected crowd was really something to see.  He thanked everyone for coming, then commented on how lucky he was: that some of his friends, friends who he felt were the real heroes, would come back to nothing special, certainly nothing like that huge celebration, and that some wouldn't come back at all.  In his eyes, he's just doing his job.

He'll be at my house for Christmas.  He and his dad come every year.  A smaller, quieter "welcome home" than last night's, but no less heartfelt. We're proud of you, kid.

 

Read This

The Onion got it right about yesterday's shootings.

So...

I was going to post today about how Mom and I finally finished decorating all those cookies for The Girl's cookie sale and turned them in this morning.  And about the crazy schedule for the weekend and the fact that I am the only female basketball coach of a boys' team I'm aware of at the kids' school (which will be interesting at the first official team practice tomorrow) and also to share the good news that Himself's cousin is safely home from Afghanistan.  Maybe even something about some of the ongoing drama with several of my girlfriends.

But then I looked at CNN and all of that went out the window.  I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am that all three of my kids came home today and how unimaginably devastating it would be if they had not, like all those little children in Connecticut.  That gunman was a sick bastard (literally and figuratively) and good riddance...I don't care WHAT issues he had with his mother, those kids were innocent and now they are gone.  What a senseless, devastating waste.  I don't know what is wrong with us as a society that anyone can even imagine for a second that this is a good way to express their sickness or frustration or anger; something of our essential decency as human beings is eroding and I'm scared to death.  

These words aren't coming out right.  Maybe there just aren't any good words.            

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers--so many caring people in this world.  --  Mr. Rogers

Greater Love Hath No Husband

Than the one who deliberately goes to sleep on his wife's side of the bed on a cold night so that she will have a warm bed to get into when she comes in later, even though he knows that she will have to wake him up to move him over when she comes to bed.  Just sayin'.  

One Way Or The Other...

I will blow off some of this stress.  I took my first yoga class in a long time today at Himself's urging...between that and taekwondo I will either serenely 'om' my aggravations away or pound them into submission with kicks and punches!

No Way To Go But Up

You know how it is when you're climbing a big hill or a mountain or something and you finally think that you can see the top, only to discover when you get there than it was only a bend in the trail and that there is a ton more mountain ahead?  That's exactly how I feel right now.

I have been going flat out for days now and getting nowhere.  For as many things as I crossed off my to-do list today, and there were a lot--I am nothing if not efficient--as many more went onto it.  Whatever I need to get done will get done, it's just a question of at what cost to my well-being, sanity and stress level.  The tanks are empty again heading into the fortnight before Christmas--aka some of the craziest days of the year--and I am officially overwhelmed.  This sucks.