Today, I am adding a new page to my blog ‘Activist mama’ where I will publish my thinking and my actions. This page will remind me that sleepless nights, back to back tantrums, getting hit by flying toys, my kids’ diarrhea etc. will never be in the end too much. But a child who will never be 8 because they were killed by a gun, a woman who has to resort to illegal street abortion or a couple in love who cannot get married because society thinks they are abnormal, is too much, way too much.
I have not written in a while because I was a shell of a human being, my body and brain all numb from the lack of sleep. Everybody says it is going get better, except that at this present time, in December 2012 it is not fucking getting better. In fact, it went from OK to bad to worse to worst to ?!!!@@@!!!!??????But today it does not matter. It does not matter that the twins are now climbing out their cribs in the middle of the night and are jumping around yelling as if they were in the Saturday Night Fever movie. It does not matter that L at 8 months old still does not sleep through the night and still thinks he is some kind of fat lump attached to my hip. No, it does not matter because on Friday 14th December a very sick person barged into a school and gunned down 26 people including 20 children aged 6 or 7. 6 or 7. Just like that, birthdays, first kisses, first time sex, graduations, first pay checks, weddings, etc. were wiped out. Just like that.It is heartbreaking. I am at loss for words, loss for emotions even.
The whole week end, I kept thinking about the same stuff over and over again, while looking at my three kids eating christmas cookies’ raw dough when they were not busy throwing it on the floor. I wondered if these parents got to hear their kids say that they loved them. P told her nanny she loved her but has yet to tell me or her dad. I hope they did get to hear it, at least once. It would be a memory I would hang on to if I lost my child. I then thought about how relieved I was that my kids were not only alive but too young to read or listen to the the news. I was glad I did not have to explain what ‘shooting massacre means’ because where would I even start? I mean, P & G are so clueless about right and wrong, hurt and pain that they do not understand why we get all pissed off when they throw milk bottles, cream containers or portable lamps onto L in his sleep. They just smile. It is a chilling experience, believe me.Finally, I asked myself what if it had happened to us? How can you recover? DH and I agreed that granted we survived, we would probably dedicate our lives to make sure that no children ever get to die this way again. We would probably feel that inaction would be like letting them down. And then I looked at my three kids wrestling on the floor, fighting over a stupid broom and thought: they are alive but am I not letting them down anyway moping about the shooting and doing nothing? When I moved to the States, I always said that I would be politically involved in three issues: women’s right to choose, marriage for all and gun violence. And then I forgot.