American kids and American guns

What if a gunman shot up your child’s school and what you had left were text messages? Or a shoe? Or just the memory of saying goodbye that morning? Or any of a number of things parents hold onto when they’ve lost their hearts.

I have been horrified by gun violence in America for years, and my kids have both had to participate in countless drills at school over those same years. Last spring, I happened to pick Oliver up from school just before a gunman opened fire on another school nearby. On our drive home, he received a message from a friend asking if he knew what was happening at Sidwell and in the neighborhood. The school locked down (many kids still there), police cordoned off all surrounding streets, helicopters flew in, and ultimately we found that Burke was being attacked. I remember Oliver and I sitting in our backyard, listening for hours to the rotors of the circling copters (we live close to school), and me thinking “shit this was close; keep it together for Ol.”

Yesterday morning, I received the first of the above texts from Jack. Halfway through our hour of exchange, I heard helicopters fly in. Shit.

J is at any age where I rarely share anything remotely private about him, but I feel the need to publish our exchange because it is both so simple and also everything. Only later yesterday afternoon, as we rearranged his room and put out his new plants, did we acknowledge to each other how scared we’d been.

I, he, all of us are so fucking sick of this.

One parent compiled some of what they heard their kids and their friends saying once home. Their words are lacerating, and I agree with them completely.

“Even though no one was hurt, it’s not true that nothing happened. Everyone was terrified. People were crying. It was so scary. I don’t want to go back tomorrow.

Don’t pretend like nothing happened. Why is everyone so numb to this? We are so ***king scared. This wasn’t a tornado warning. It’s not fine."

"If this is so terrible, treat it like something that’s terrible."

"If you go to school in America, this is going to happen. We have been training for this since kindergarten. That doesn’t mean that today felt like nothing. I thought there was a possibility of dying."

"Do you know how long an hour is when you think you are going to die?"

Why do put our children, parents, teachers through this? Why do we accept this as ok? Guns are worth this? “Freedom” -such a bastardized word now- is worth this?

Ultimately, thankfully, there was no gun. But there could have been. And look what the threat of one did. And for good reason. The odds aren’t really in the kids’ favor.

Another day of school lost. Another hope of normalcy lost. Kids hiding in kilns (yesterday). Kids showing substitute teachers how to lower the blinds and properly lock the doors (yesterday). Kids shushing each other (yesterday; all the time). Teachers finding long poles to wield should an intruder break in (yesterday; all the time). Parents showing up at school, terrified (yesterday; all the time). Parents and kids texting, with fear slipping into the efforts to mask it with love and strength (yesterday; all the time).

Today, a long-term sub Jack has didn’t show up. He’d called a kid a hideous slur, so good riddance, but shit. Jack said, so casually it was like a sharp knife to soft butter, “yesterday I could have died, and today I have no teacher.”

What are we doing? WHAT ARE WE DOING?

Oh, look! I'm rage-mute-so-writing again! Guns, abortion, a broken democracy.

Ah, yes. Last time I wrote, not even a month ago, women were losing rights left and Right. Yesterday, the “very fine” misogynist white religious jackass governor of Oklahoma SUPER took away Oklahoman women’s rights by banning all abortion from fertilization on. Do you know that literally no one knows when fertilization happens? Do you know that most women have no idea they are pregnant for at least six weeks unless they demand and pay for a super-sensitive hormone test?

I found out that I was pregnant with Oliver that way. I had not ovulated regularly or at all in years, desperately wanted a second child, and was trying everything under the sun to regulate myself: pills, hormones, cupping, acupuncture, morning temperature readings, warming foods. I also had an out-of-network doctor because Tom’s company paid for Cadillac care.

When my super-sensitive, private-GYN-administered hormone test came back, I was at the gym. I raced outside to try and hear the results. “You are barely registering as pregnant,” she said. “But, you seem to be pregnant.” That smidgen of hope is Oliver, but it just as easily could have been a false positive, a to-be miscarriage, or any of another outcome.

I was lucky that that cluster of cells was ok and hung on. I was sick as shit for at least 14 weeks because I had to take daily progesterone to try to ensure that the pregnancy made it through the first trimester. I had a 2-year-old at home and a hard-working husband. At 8 months and two weeks, my water broke as I read on the couch early in the morning with that almost-three-year-old.

Jack asked, “Mommy, why did you pee on me?” I went to the hospital, leaking everywhere, stopped progressing, was induced with pitocin, overreacted to said pitocin, was taken off the pitocin and told to walk, laid in pain while a nurse and an anesthesiologist argued OVER my body about “checking my progress” vs “administering more drug,” and finally gave birth to Ol at 4:16 that afternoon.

None of this is terribly germane to anything except A) pregnancy often takes a shit ton of effort, will, discomfort, sacrifice, hope, and luck, and B) women DO NOT go through this voluntarily, much less forcibly, to have their children shot to death in school classrooms and then receive nothing but vapid “thoughts and prayers” from cowardly, craven assholes who could do everything to prevent such slaughter but don’t.

Last month, just after my birthday, a friend and I went to Bethesda Tattoo to get our noses pierced. Simply making the appointments for our piercings took an insane amount of time and effort on the part of my friend who, by the way, has three children under 12. Let me tell you, if you don’t know, that Bethesda is super white and super wealthy. We weren’t trying to slink into a shady Claire’s for an illicit anything.

Upon arrival, we were asked to: wear masks, present AND upload both our driver’s licenses and Covid vaccination cards, sign and upload multiple waivers, choose implant-grade titanium jewelry, wait for said inert jewelry to be sterilized, have our noses sterilized, have the piercer’s hands and work area be sterilized, argue about placement on nose re: where the piercing would land, COMPROMISE about said placement because the piercer “wouldn’t put my name on” just any location, pay $150, AND swear to not remove our jewelry until July. This was in April. I am 46 years old. I was not trying to purchase drugs or a weapon. I simply wanted a sparkly stud in one nostril.

The fucker in Texas turned 18, quickly bought two assault rifles and kazillions of rounds of ammo, shot his grandmother in the face, and murdered 19 children and two teachers while the police did nothing, before, mercifully, being killed before more died. The entire massacre took less time than it took for me to get my right nostril willingly pierced.

I didn’t go through two pregnancies and the incredibly challenging, relentless work of parenthood since then, to work harder to get my goddamn nose pierced than keep my children safe at fucking school. And did I mention 2+ years of keeping everyone safe and alive during Covid?

I live in a blue state whose senators -Cardin and Van Hollen- despise the NRA and would never deign to take a cent from their murderous coffers. My representative -Raskin- speaks publicly and proudly, and has for many years, on behalf of gun control and the right of regular folks to life as gun owners have to firearms. I have it “good.” It doesn’t feel that way.

Six weeks ago, Oliver’s school went on lockdown because a nearby school was the target of a rogue shooter. Oliver attends one of the most prestigious, expensive, aware, and coddled schools in the whole goddamn world. I could not give two craps about its name or reputation. I share these details only because NO ONE is safe. Not any school, not any place, not for any amount of money or blue’ness or woke’ness or whatever. I happened to arrive at pick up just as the school was locking down; some of Oliver’s friends were locked inside for four hours, their parents told to stay away. The school did a great job, but they shouldn’t have had to be so brave and so strong on a Friday in the nation’s capital or anywhere. The kids shouldn’t have had to play games and hide in thickly-walled gyms and under desks while a mad guy with access to assault weapons and infinite ammo shot up the school just a few blocks away.

One of the teachers murdered at Robb Elementary (in Uvalde, TX) yesterday had a loving marriage of 24 years and four children. Her husband died last night of a heart attack. We can hope it was not prompted by grief and outrage and horror, but I think we all know that it was. Now, four children have no parents, so many parents have no children, a school and a community are forever traumatized, and we as a nation have to sit and watch while every single one of the GOP politicians again do nothing, whine about feeling attacked, and offer the emptiest, most offensive thoughts and prayers.

Houston, not 300 miles from Uvalde, is hosting the NRA’s annual convention starting tomorrow/today, depending on when you read this. It begins Friday, May 27, 2022, and TX governor Abbott, Flaccid Cancun, and Toxic Cheeto are all slated to speak. All still plan to speak and are likely going to be paid to do so. Houston is still hosting. None of them care. The NRA doesn’t care. The good guys with guns never do anything, either because good guys don’t have guns or because no one does or can stand up to a gleefully armed person hell bent on killing. The kids and teachers shouldn’t have to be the ones safeguarding themselves. And NO American leader should be continually okaying the fact that gun violence is the leading cause of death for American children.

Guns ARE the problem. Misogyny IS the problem. This country is broken. I want and am trying to leave.

My children are safe at home tonight

One of my sons has been asleep for a couple hours now, tucked in after a fun family afternoon, a good dinner, and a warm bath. 

The other just got home from a school dance, sweaty and flushed and "so pumped up." He smelled a bit, but I couldn't help but hold him tight as he told me about the dance and the music and the ice cream. He's had a tough year, and I was so hopeful that tonight would be fun. It was. And now, he is safely in bed, here with us at home.

Worrying about your child having fun at a middle school dance is a typical, expected parental concern.

Worrying that your child will be shot to death at their school is not, should not be, cannot become an expected parental concern.

Today, again, more children were gunned down while simply trying to go to school. While most of us are counting down the few remaining days of this academic year, some parents tonight are instead planning shockingly unexpected funerals. With this, the 22nd school shooting of this year and the third just this week, "2018 has been deadlier for schoolchildren than service members."

If we as a nation are not mortified and ashamed into real action by that obvious disregard for our children (and the converse which is the obvious idolatrous obsession with firearms), then we are truly beyond repair. 

It's the guns, stupid.

And don't even get me started on the fact that the white murderer was taken into custody without a scratch. If he'd been black, he'd have been blown to smithereens in moments.