Who do we blame?

*Warning: contains graphic language and one person's political opinions*

I haven't written in awhile. Sorry. I had planned to write a big political post around election time, but never got around to it.

Like most other Americans and people with souls, I'm fairly devastated by the tragic events that unfolded in Newtown, CT, last Friday. I watched the news unfold with tears and horror. I picked up my kindergartner from the bus that day with tears still in my eyes and a huge mommy hug. I don't know anyone in Newtown, but, like every other parent in America, I was brought to my knees with grief for their losses.

Ugh. I still can't watch the news with a dry eye. Peanut keeps teasing me to stop crying. I can't. I wish I could. I wish I could forget the images, either broadcast on the news or in my mind's overactive eye, but I can't. I will happily turn off the news when the questions become sensational, and have done so several times over the weekend. I have no use for that type of lurid curiosity or desire for momentary fame.

I've tried, as I'm sure everyone in America has, to wrap my head around this. I've failed. Miserably. What could possibly ever make someone kill their mother, then enter a grade school -- which has since come out as having no affiliation with the shooter's family -- and take the lives of so many innocent children, and so many more trying to save them?

We're all horrified and grieving and desperately seeking answers. Answers we will likely never find. If I believe my Facebook feed and shared articles, I would believe that the solution is three-pronged for this to never happen again:

1. Gun control needs to be stronger. 
2. Mental illness needs to be addressed, desperately, in this country. 
3. Put God back in schools.

Guess what, folks? The answer(s) isn't that simple. And another Newtown will likely never happen. Sure, there may be copycat attempts, but we're a nation on edge after this.

A lot of people are pointing the blame at gun control. Sorry, wrong answer. Mrs. Lanza had obtained her guns legally, in one of the toughest states to procure a gun. Her son got his hands on her legally owned guns anyway. And, in a bout of cruel irony, he killed her with at least one.

The founding fathers found some reason to include the right to bear arms in our Bill of Rights. I can respect that. Do I think the Second Amendment is antiquated? A bit. Do I think it needs removed and that all gun ownership should become illegal? No more so than I think the right to quarter troops should be removed. These guys were fucking brilliant. We've fucked up a lot since then. We've misinterpreted their intentions behind the Bill of Rights many times since then, but then, given enough time, we'll usually right the ship.

I've never owned and never shot a gun. I've never felt the need to do so. I lived on my own for a long time, often in not-so-safe areas of town, and I have not once felt the need to protect my person -- or my child -- with gunpower. A lot of gun advocates worry that I may be unprepared if I'm confronted with the business end of a gun. I'll deal with that if and when it happens. I don't feel it's the most likely of scenarios. In the meantime, I will continue to refuse to allow guns to be brought into and kept in my home. Should I feel the need to take up a hobby such as target shooting, I'll go to a shooting range and take out my aggressions that way. You know, legally.

Oh, and I have a reasonable amount of faith in our Supreme Court, Congress, and President that they won't actually remove the Second Amendment. As much as I disagree with them often, amending the Constitution isn't all that easy. Besides, taking the right to own a gun away from the American public won't remove them from society. Please, you can't be that naive to think that it will.

Moving on to mental illness, this may be the best part of the solution. So, the shooter had Asperger's Syndrome, a less-severe variant of autism. I'm not a psychologist, but I've witnessed the rise in diagnoses of these diseases over the last several years. I'm not about to argue their validity and existence, but the prevalence of diagnoses reminds me a lot of ADHD in the 1990's and 2000's. I have to question whether they're being overdiagnosed, or whether, as a nation, we really are that fucked up. And regardless, there seems to be no link between Asperger's and violent behaviors, at least in most cases.

Does this country need massive mental health reform? Absolutely. Should this incident be the battle cry for it? Absolutely not. Should mental health be readily available to every American? I certainly think it's unfair that it's most available to the wealthy and the destitute. Then again, I fall into the category of mentally ill (can't even remember the term for it; a variant of depression), and I choose not to treat it. But, like gun ownership, that's my right.

The fact is, apparently the shooter was mentally ill, and availed himself of his mother's legally owned guns. I do question her wisdom in keeping guns in her house while her mentally ill son lived there, as well, but I have to believe that she never thought she would see this kind of violence from him. The Greeks couldn't have written such an abhorrent tragedy.

So, that leaves putting "God back in school". I'm sorry, but no god belongs in public school. At the same time, please realize that the Christian God is not necessarily banned in school -- schools are merely prevented from forcing all students to participate in school-wide prayer and religious activities. Nowhere are students discouraged from praying, at least not by themselves. Before I embark upon a vitriolic diatribe against organized religion, in particular the Christian-based faiths, let me get back to the Constitution, that beautiful document drafted nearly 250 years ago. It basically says that the U.S. government should not establish a national religion, and that no citizen should be prevented from practicing their religion. Interpretation since the inception of the First Amendment has varied over the years, and better left to a Constitutional law class than what is rapidly becoming a treatise on the events in Newtown.

If you think that your god should be in school, please enroll your child immediately in a private school whose religious beliefs align with your own. Keep your god out of my child's school. At the same time, I can't imagine that there weren't prayers uttered on Friday morning at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

I'm also a fixer and a doer; I seek action from tragedies such as this. In this case, I can think of nothing to do -- other than donate money, which I don't have. Or send a card or some memorial token to Newtown, where I know no one. That's not nearly as results-oriented as I would like. So let me offer this: if any grieving family member from Newtown wants or needs to make a fresh start, I'd be happy to open my home to you. It's a sincere offer.

Thoughts? Rants? Reactions?

I was very much looking forward to the Orionid meteor shower tonight... according to one of our esteemed local meteorologists, the best viewing is between 1-7AM, EDT. Although, allegedly, you could perhaps see them anytime after full darkness.
I've been out hourly, even semi-hourly, for the last 5 hours (since just after I put Peanut to bed). And there's not much.

This is supposed to be a huge meteor shower? Because meteor showers mean shooting stars. Shooting stars equate, in my 10-year-old mind, to make a wish.

Maybe it's the high atmosperic clouds, the ones that make the sky a very milky light blue, instead of the awesome cornflower blue I'm accustomed to this time of year.

Maybe it's the amount I've had to drink today. Michigan pulled out a nail-biter. That game ended several hours ago.

Maybe it's a long weekend home spent mostly at home with my child (see previous posts, please). And that after such a day as yesterday, he needed some Mommy reassurance. I couldn't remove my child from my leg all day.

Any of the above could alter my perception of the sky, and the alleged Awesome that is taking place in the Cosmos.

The most I have seen is -- wait, was that a spot on my glasses, or was it a high-atmospheric shooting star? I'm still not quite sure.

All I can say is that I could use a wish or two upon a falling star tonight.

A lesson in gratitude and respect

Peanut has today off from school for Teacher Development Day. We both woke up early this morning, and he was, as usual, playing his Nintendo DS. I put a pot of coffee on, and was checking email and other such assorted morning tasks. He grew increasingly frustrated with not being able to get past a level in Super Mario, and eventually literally ripped his DS in half.

Excuse me, sir?

I realize your Irish temper leads you to some destructive behaviors, but this is beyond unacceptable.

After a few minutes, when I could finally look him in the face, I demanded not only his DS, but also his backup DS, his Gameboys, and all games and accessories for any and all portable gaming devices. It took him all morning and halfway through the afternoon to clean up the mess from the destruction wreaked while looking for said devices.

He just came out from his room to tell me it was clean. Upon inspection, it looks good. But we're not nearly done yet. Oh, no. Not even close.

Every time this morning he would emerge from his room, he would have a sullen look on his face and a sanctimonious air about him, as if he had done nothing wrong. Furthermore, he pulled his usual meal-time stunt of refusing to finish his lunch, and after over a half hour of Dad and I hounding him to eat, he pretended to vomit. Unfortunately, this is not uncommon. It happens at nearly every mealtime. And let me back up my parenting by stating that I don't offer him unreasonable portions, and I'm a hell of a cook... in fact, I'm his favorite cook. So it's not like the food was inedible. This particular offering was about 3 spoonsful of grits and a fried egg with melted cheese. Dad and I both devoured our (much larger) portions.

Finally, I head to the shower and clear my head. Ahhh, nothing like bubbles and soothing scents to make me think through a problem. The shower realizations? This child lacks respect and gratitude (as evidenced by the eye rolls and imperious looks he gave his grandfather and me all morning).

One of my major parenting philosophies is that the punishment should fit the crime. With that in mind, I developed a 3-pronged approach to the punishment of the offending act.

1. Donate 90% of his toys to children in need.
2. Volunteer some time at a Santa's Helper-type program, so that he can interact with children who are grateful for their toys and will treat them with respect. Fortunately, it's just about perfect timing for such programs.
3. Volunteer some time at a soup kitchen, so he can see firsthand what it's like to be hungry, and to have an idea of how grateful the people served are for every morsel they consume.
3a.  Don't take the Paul Ryan approach to volunteering in a soup kitchen. Actually cook and serve food to the hungry!

Oh, and he's grounded for a week, and no TV or computer or other game time for the weekend. And Nathan and I will discuss Halloween festivities when Nathan gets home from a long, strenuous day at work.

One thing I've noticed over the past five years: when doling out punishment, the punishment extends to me as well as him. It's rather frustrating, and I feel bad for all my childhood sins. 

Your thoughts, dear readers? I'm a Mommy on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Kindergarten Capers, Part 1

From time to time, I'll delve into the inherent challenges of being a parent. This is one of those cases. 

My child is in kindergarten. He's a fairly normal 5-year-old, and has always been a bit rambunctious and energetic. If you could harness his energy alone, we could solve the energy crisis within the lower 48. (Alaska is too cold and utilizes too much heating oil; you're on your own.) I call him Peanut online to protect his identity. 

This is Peanut: 

Adorable, right??? (I'm his mother; I am required by law to be biased.)

But behind those beautiful steel blue eyes lies enough mischief to serve a dozen kids his age. He also was unfortunate enough to inherit his father's and my Irish tempers. And boy, are we Irish. I'm pretty sure that's why our relationship failed, both times. 

Peanut recently started kindergarten. He's doing pretty well; he likes school in general, and his teacher in particular. He's at the top of the bell curve for nearly all of his learning objectives at his age. 

Except for his behavior. In his classroom, they have a demerit system called "clips" for bad behavior. You can receive up to three clips in one day. For one clip, you are basically put in time-out. For two clips in any given day, the teacher will send a letter home to your parents that the parent must sign and return. For three clips in a day, there's something of an intervention with the principal, counselor, his teacher, and the parents or other sordid consequences. 

Peanut has received two clips once a week for the last two weeks. The second occurrence, last Wednesday, Peanut was so mad at the situation that he threw away the letter to me. I received a second notice on Friday, when it also came out that he had lied to me and the cover-up had come to light. 

I toyed with legally changing his middle name to Trouble. 

Once we got to the bottom of the situation -- some kids had called him names, so he punched (!) them -- we were able to devise some punishment. Peanut suggested that I take away his Nintendo DS, his favorite toy. And maybe his Legos, too. That's a good start, but not nearly enough for the egregious nature of the crimes. Hey, Raskolnikov, you're not getting off that easily. 

We finally came up with the following: 

• Take away the DS until Peanut can go for a full week at school with no clips
• Take away the Legos for the weekend
• No TV, computer time, or video games for the weekend
• He had to confess his crimes to extended "family" members at a party that evening, and seek out advice for handling name-calling in the future
• Each day, after school, he had "homework" -- practicing writing his name, alphabet, and numbers five times each
• We moved his bedtime up an hour, to 8:00pm on school nights, in the effort that additional sleep would make him less likely to take out frustration physically

The strata of punishment were also conveyed to his teacher. That way, she knows we're taking this seriously, and willing to forge a symbiotic relationship to further his upbringing. I also asked her assistance in letting me know if he received one clip (she doesn't have to tell us if it's only one).

It made for a long weekend for all of us, but we survived it. Making matters worse, Sunday night he lied to me about Nathan, my partner, telling him he could play our friend's Wii. That earned him a spanking and much verbal reproval from me. 

We were sailing through the week, clip-free, until today. Wednesday. He got off the bus, and, kicking some gravel, informed me that he received one clip. 

Insert primal scream here. 

At least he was honest. But he still got a clip. I get the DS for another ten days, at least. Good thing I bought my own game for it, because lately I've had more time to play it than he has. 

He's still not out of the woods with the above punishment, most of which is still in effect. So, at this point, what's a parent to do??? The only thing I could come up with was a reward system for not receiving clips at school. I drew up a chart and rewards for every clip-free week, and hung it on the fridge. If he goes an entire week without a clip, not only does he get his beloved DS back, but he also gets to play one game of his choice with the family member of his choice. For two weeks, he gets an extra half hour on the computer or DS. For three weeks, we'll give him his choice of dinner and family game or movie night. For an entire month, it's his choice. Trying to also figure out awesome rewards he'll love on a very strict budget was a challenge in itself!

I may also devise a clip demerit system relevant to the month: for example, in October, five or more clips may result in Peanut not being allowed to go trick-or-treating. OK, that seems harsh, as Halloween is our collective favorite holiday, so maybe ten or more clips... 

I'd love to hear any feedback, suggestions, ideas, etc., that any of you may have, Dear Readers (if there are any of you!). What would you do? How would you handle it? What types of punishment do you feel would be appropriate?

Mothgate 2012

I made plans to go out to lunch with a friend of mine today. Woo hoo! I get to get out of the house, more than just to go to the corner store, or to greet Peanut at the bus! Yessssss!

I showered before meeting said friend. As I reached for the bottle of body wash, I noticed something was on it. Of course, I didn't have my contacts in, and without them, I'm blind. Like have to have my nose literally on something in order to really see it. I also suffer from acute arachnophobia. Last night, I whined and wheedled until Nathan killed a spider that was in the corner behind the door, as I was frozen to my chair in fear. Getting another beer is completely unimportant when a teeny spider is threatening you from a corner, particularly when it's not on the path between you and the fridge. They. Petrify. Me.

So, in the shower this morning, I have no idea if this thing is a moth, a spider, or some other unknown creature. All I can see is that it's rather large. I screamed. It fell onto the floor of the shower, where I tried to coax it down the drain. It refused, swimming toward the back of the tub. I aim the water toward it, knocking it back down. I come to the realization that said thing and I will be doing at least a minor battle as it swims for its life. I also realize that I don't want to be standing in the shower as I attempt to encourage it toward the drain. Out of the shower I go.

Dripping wet, chasing the unidentifiable large thing with the shower spray, the only progress I am making is soaking my bathroom rug and floor. I turn off all cold water... it does lazy laps around the tub. When it gets to the far end, it tries to move up out of the water. I chase it with water. Scalding hot water. It makes its way under the edge of the shower curtain... I spray it out of there and back into the bottom of the tub. It slowly wends its way toward the drain... where it just swirls around the drain, not showing any inkling of going down the drain. I sigh in frustration and hatch a plan, as not taking a shower is not appealing to me. If I just leave, it will escape its little shower Buchenwald. The thought of killing it makes my skin crawl. I'm not brave enough to pick it up.

I grab my glasses and put them on. Whew, it is a moth and not a giant hairy spider. Now that said rival has been identified, I try to stun it a little longer with the scalding shower spray. Finally, it's floating and not attempting to escape. I center the spray and quickly dash to the kitchen to grab two Solo cups. I scoop the moth into one of the cups, cap it with the other, and make quickly toward my front door. I'm butt naked as I toss the moth out the front door. I certainly hope the neighbors aren't looking.

Ah. Relief. I can shower in peace. After my shower, I dress and plead for some additional time before lunch, as it's approaching time to meet my friend. He agrees to delay lunch by a half hour. Sweet. I dawdle in finishing getting ready, checking Facebook and email in between putting on makeup and drying my hair. As I went back into my bedroom to pick up my hairbrush, I see it. It flaps its wings at me. The same moth is back in my house! How did it get in? Why did it want to come back? I mean, we just went through Waterloo; that moth should be feeling as defeated as Napoleon.

I went to lunch. Lunch was delicious. It was good to get out and hang out with people I love dearly. I came back home, and the moth hasn't been seen since. I hope it's enjoying a good nap. If it ends up under my Tahitian Renewal again, I can't promise to be so nice as to not kill it.

Welcome to Koeper's Capers!

Welcome to Koeper's Capers, my little space for blathering about whatever is on my mind. I'm a stay-at-home mom who has a lot of time, a wide variety of interests, and a lot of stuff on my mind... Consider this your warning. I hope you enjoy this little vignette into my corner of the world.