I'm a Mom. I'm an American. And I'm Pissed.

America experienced yet another unspeakable tragedy yesterday, when the 20-year-old mentally ill son of a teacher got his hands on his mother’s guns. After killing his mother with her own gun, he blasted his way through an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut and shot 20 children and 6 adults dead before killing himself.

I, like every other American, am devastated by the senseless killings of innocent children in their own school. As the mother of two small children - one of whom is almost school-age himself - I can’t help but imagine the terror those babies felt, and the trauma the survivors experienced. My heart breaks when I think about the 20 families whose kids didn’t come home from school yesterday. No parent should lose a child this way. It’s inhumane.

The Connecticut school shooting is only the latest example of an unstable person with a gun unleashing mass destruction on innocent people. According to the Washington Post, America has seen 6 mass shootings that took the lives of 5 or more people so far in 2012. Examples include:

April 2, Oakland CA: An Oikos University dropout lined nursing students against a wall and methodically shot them, killing 7 and injuring 3.

May 30, Seattle WA: A coffee shop patron with a history of mental and behavioral problems opened fire after being asked to leave, killing 5 and injuring 1 before committing suicide.

July 20, Aurora CO: A man in riot gear opened fire in a movie theater during a midnight showing of “The Dark Knight Rises.” He killed 12 and injured 58.

Aug 5, Oak Creek WI: A white supremacist opened fire in a Sikh temple, killing 6 and injuring 3 before committing suicide.

Sept 27, Minneapolis MN: A man being fired from his job pulled a gun and opened fire, shooting 6 people dead and injuring 3 before killing himself.

Gabby Giffords. Columbine. Virginia Tech.

Workplace shootings. Mall shootings. Salon shootings. Movie theater shootings. School shootings. A shooting at a Las Vegas casino. A shooting in a daycare parking lot. It’s constant, and it is tragic.

I’ve been seeing a lot of conversation on Twitter calling for stricter gun control. While the prevalence of guns - and the relative ease of obtaining a gun - certainly contribute to the problem, I believe guns themselves are not the whole problem.

The vast majority of mass shootings are carried out by a person with known mental health issues. These are people who are described as “different,” unable to relate to or connect with other people. For example:

Jared Loughner, shooter of Arizona Representative Gabrielle Giffords, underwent a “personality change” at some point in his life, becoming reclusive and “obsessed” with conspiracy theories. During his time in jail he was diagnosed with schizophrenia and declared unfit for trial. He was ordered by the courts to be forcibly medicated in order to make him fit to stand trial. He pleaded guilty to 19 counts in August of this year.

Andrew Engeldinger, Accent Signage employee in Minneapolis who opened fire after learning he was losing his job, had been growing more paranoid and reclusive in the months leading up to the shooting. His parents noticed, and tried desperately to get him some help. He was never diagnosed and never sought treatment; in fact, he cut off contact with his parents after learning of their efforts to help him. He died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound after killing 2 of his managers, 3 coworkers, and a UPS deliveryman.

Ian Lee Stawicki, who opened fire in a Seattle coffee shop after the barista declined to serve him, had suffered from mental illness for years. He had been more erratic in the months leading up to his rampage. Despite the best efforts of his family, he could not be convinced to seek help. According to his father, “He wouldn’t hear it,” he said. “We couldn’t get him in, and they wouldn’t hold him.”

They wouldn’t hold him.

I’m reminded of a shooting here in Minnesota several years ago, when a man was committed to the psychiatric ward of a local hospital by his brother-in-law. He was released after 24 hours, having been deemed a non-threat to himself or others. He walked out of the hospital, drove to his sister’s house, and killed her – and her entire family, including the brother-in-law who tried to help him.

This right here is the problem. I understand that mental illness is a squishy thing to deal with. I get that the safety of the general public must be balanced with the civil rights of a mentally ill person. I know that not every mentally ill person is going to seek help or secure a diagnosis. But you know what? I believe that MUCH more can be done.

I believe that this country’s mental health policies contribute heavily to gun violence. A mentally ill person + a gun = a lethal combination.

A combination of more effective gun control measures and comprehensive policies around dealing with the truly mentally ill are what it will take to curb all this senseless violence. True reform will require teamwork and transparency:

The gun lobby, rather than opposing all gun control, should recognize that free access to guns really isn’t a good idea; and that arming all Americans also is a terrible idea (this is not the Wild West, folks).

Our mental health community, including hospitals, treatment centers, and providers need to pop their little bubbles, and work together to share information in order to provide the best quality mental health services to the people who need them most.

Our government – federal, state, county, and local – need to develop common-sense mental health policies that will help mentally ill people while protecting innocent American citizens. In addition, the government needs to do its part to help keep guns out of the hands of people who will use them to kill. (There is a difference between having a gun for self-protection and having one for the express purpose of harming people) Our current policies and laws clearly are not working.

I call upon Amy Klobuchar and Al Franken, U.S. Senators from Minnesota, and Erik Paulsen, Minnesota District 3 U.S. Representative, to step up and start making the change that is so desperately needed in this country. You are all highly respected government officials, and your constituents voted you into your jobs for a reason. We expect you to channel your Minnesota values and stand up for the Americans you represent. Innocent Americans are dying for no reason.  I do not want to hear anymore how your thoughts and prayers are with the families in Newtown, CT. Now I want to see some action. There is no more room for complacency.

Enough is enough.

On Dating...In Your 30s.

Dating. The (seemingly) endless game of trying to find that one special, perfect person who complements and completes you. Who provides companionship, support, love and affection. Who is your lover and your best friend. The one person you simply cannot live without.

Sounds fantastic, right? I mean, who doesn't want that, and who doesn't strive for that on some level throughout their lives? The drive to find your match seems to run underneath every daily activity. If you're single, you notice the good-lookers at the grocery store, at church, at the gym, in the car next to you at the stoplight, everywhere. The radar is always on. 

I'll tell you what: my happily married friends should count their lucky stars. This dating thing is tough.

For one thing, the talent pool is very different from when I was in my 20s. Back then, it was rare to meet someone who had yet been married or had kids. Hardly anybody had any baggage. It was all about just getting together and having a good time. If there should be a spark, great! If there wasn't, it was really pretty easy to bounce back from a failure and try again. No harm, no foul.

Now, I am 36 years old. I have kids, I have a failed marriage under my belt, and I have lived enough life to know what's really important to me. I may have some trust issues, I'm rather protective of my space, and my kids absolutely come first. I most certainly am not the "Jen-on-the-town" I was a decade ago.

Turns out I'm not the only one who carries residual baggage that comes from life experience. The men do, too. And that, friends and neighbors, increases the dating difficulty factor by about a thousand percent. I know exactly what I want (and what I do not want), and finding someone who meets my stringent criteria has been...well, difficult.

I finally jumped back in the dating game a little over a year ago. I haven't been a serial dater by any stretch of the imagination; I am quite picky about who I meet. That's the beauty of online dating; a simple glance at a profile is all I need to know if someone is worth having a conversation with. Even then there's no guarantee. Thanks to online dating sites, in the past year or so I have dated:

• A freshly divorced single dad who was emotionally unavailable and so passionate about his sports and activities that he was busy literally every hour of every day.
• An emotional wreck of a man who was painfully insecure, needy, and clingy - and who, I discovered rather quickly, had a pretty serious alcohol problem.
• Another divorced single dad who seemed nice enough, but was literally unable to ever sit still or stop talking. Also not overly reliable or responsive. He just kinda fell off the radar.
• Yet another divorced single dad - except this one was different. He seemed to meet every single one of my criteria: smart, educated, employed, stable, the list goes on. I could not find one thing wrong with this one. Until he freaked out and ran away. We reconciled after several months, and all seemed to be going well...until he did it again. This one, while absolutely perfect in every other way, has some deep emotional issues. I can't help him with that, and I don't need that kind of hassle. 

And I think I'm such a great judge of character.

Four nice enough guys, but every single one of them has plenty of baggage and emotional issues of his own. It's impossible to find that soulmate under these conditions. In fact, I'm becoming more and more convinced that he doesn't actually exist. Those romantic comedies are so full of shit.

While it would be nice to have companionship, I don't really need a man. My life is probably more peaceful without one. Heck...I can always start collecting cats.

Happily married friends, count your blessings. :)

The End of an Era (I'm Movin' On).

As I sit here contemplating all that's left to do in the 36 hours between now and moving day, it occurs to me that a house is so very much more than brick and mortar. Or wood and nails, as the case may be. I feel compelled to ruminate on that just a bit, if you're up for a little emotional rambling. :)

I clearly remember the first time I laid eyes on this house. March 1, 2007. I was married nearly a year, pregnant, and super excited to find the place that my family could grow in - and call home. We had looked at dozens of houses online and in person, but none of them spoke to me the way this one did. I saw it as we drove down the street (in a blizzard, mind you), and it took my breath away. I knew - I KNEW - that this was where we would land. This was home. I had to have it. And six weeks later we moved in.

I had big plans for this house. As far as I was concerned, we were going to stay here a long time. Maybe not forever, but long enough to raise our family. We started down that path. Our son was born, and then our daughter. Our neighbors were our friends. We were well on our way to being the quintessential happy suburban family I'd always wanted.

But - it turns out that not everything happens as planned. Sometimes not even close. I aimed for Pleasantville and got the Bates Motel, or something. Instead of the Cleavers, this house saw the end of a marriage, the destruction of a family, and probably more pain and tears than joy and laughter.

You'd think I'd be glad to leave this house behind, and in most ways I am. I recognize that finally leaving this house means a well-deserved fresh start for me. But I'm a sentimental person, and I often think about the optimism and bright eyes I had when I moved into this house. Remembering that makes me sad for all the dreams I had that didn't really come to be.

The good news is, this move is the final chapter in a long, tawdry tale. I really do get to start fresh, on my own again, and rebuild a life that is all mine. And that, my friends, has been a long time coming. So I guess I shouldn't spend too much time feeling sorry for myself. This is my opportunity to move on - me and my kids. It will be good. :)

And on Thursday, I will bid adieu to Elk River, and to this house. I can't believe that day is already here.