Stitches Put Into Perspective

On Monday, I was going to blog about what can now be referred to as Worst Mom Ever Part Three when my son, only a couple of feet away from his parents, face planted into the entertainment cabinet and gashed his forehead. This exciting turn of events resulted in a trip to the emergency room and two stitches. Little A was such a brave little toaster during the whole ordeal; all the while I felt like crawling under a rock from guilt.

Then this wing nut decided to take out his anger and frustration on a population of innocent Hokies. And commit suicide. Sigh. Coward.

Normally, this sort of mass tragedy would disturb and sadden me, but now that Little A's in my life, my feelings are colored somewhat differently. As a parent, I want to shelter and care for my son, keeping him out of harms way. When something like this happens, I realize that there will come a time, sooner than I like, when Little A will spend more time outside of my care than within it. Some would say, considering my track record, that perhaps that isn't such a bad thing. What totally frightens me is while I couldn't save him from using his forehead like a sledgehammer while I was close enough to grab him, out there in the Big Bad World he'll be facing a lot more dangerous things that our furniture. From the unlikely event of a crazed gunman to a drunk driver to a seemingly mundane patch of ice on a sidewalk. If I stop and think about it, it's enough to keep Little A locked in the house until I die. But of course, I wouldn't do that. It's an accepted risk you take as a parent-allowing your child to go out into a very dangerous world without you at their side.

Unfortunately, as a society, we have a hard time accepting that Life is Hard and Bad Things Happen. Witness this tragedy in Blacksburg and how the media is clamoring to find someone or something to blame. The prevailing thought is that somehow this event could have been avoided. That at some point someone knew this guy was going to go all banana bread and slaughter a bunch of people. Not only does it seem like America can't accept that in life bad stuff is going to happen, but also that no matter what there's always someone at fault.

Because in America when Something Bad happens you should Get Paid. And the only way to Get Paid is to find out who done you wrong and sue the living shit out of them. I am sure that already the sharks are circling in these waters waiting to pounce. It's only a matter of time before the lawsuits will start popping up, probably against everyone from Tech to the local mental hospital to the manufacture of the handguns he used. Somebody's going to Get Paid from all of this.

I swear, there's a new American Dream out there. It's the Class Action Lawsuit.

On a side note, major props to Governor Kaine (who up until this point has really done nothing for me as an elected official) to standing up to the fucking jackal reporters and politicians who wanted to immediately turn this situation into a gun control issue. Good for him that he was willing to stand up for Virginia and our need to grieve rather than starting waving this around as political fodder.

Finally, I have a reason to actually approve of fraternities. My cousin Alex, who is pledging a fraternity and was more than likely up late Sunday, slept though the whole incident. Unfortunately, the girl to whom I sold SpaceMobile, was in the room right next door to the first shooting. She heard the screams and witnessed the dead bodies of her neighbor and RA. She definitely needs our prayers right now.