This Week's Parenting Wins: Celebrating the Small (But Actually Huge) Moments
I dropped my kid off at summer camp this morning, but it wasn't like any other Friday. Same rushed breakfast, same last-minute search for the water bottle, same "don't forget to put on sunscreen!" But when it came time for goodbye, I pulled them into a tighter hug than usual. The kind of hug that says everything you can't put into words.
As I watched them run toward the camp entrance, backpack bouncing, I found myself standing there longer than normal. Another dad noticed me lingering by the drop-off area.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Just thinking about Minneapolis," I said.
His face immediately darkened. He knew exactly what I meant. We stood there in that uncomfortable silence that parents share when the unthinkable happens to other people's children.
"Eight and ten years old," he said quietly. "Just sitting in church."
Because now I know what happened in Minneapolis. Now I know about Fletcher, 8, and Harper, 10. Now I know about the seventeen other souls who were wounded while sitting in church pews, celebrating the first week of school.
And like every parent who heard this news, my mind went to that dark place we try so hard to avoid.
It starts innocently enough. You're scrolling through the news, maybe during your lunch break or while the kids are doing homework. Then you see the headline: "Mass shooting at Minneapolis Catholic school kills two children." Your heart stops.
You read the details, and suddenly your safe little world feels paper-thin. Children were literally under the pews, moved there by "heroic staff" within seconds of gunfire erupting. Eight-year-olds and ten-year-olds, just trying to start their school year with a prayer.
Then the spiral begins.
The Inner Parent Monologue:
What if that was my kid's school?
What if that was my kid under those pews?
What if, what if, what if...
As parents, we play this horrible mental chess game after every shooting. We calculate distances, security measures, protocols. One mother whose children survived put it perfectly: "I am just incredibly grateful that this school did and had been preparing and also just incredibly sad and angry that this has to be a thing in any school."
Grateful and heartbroken simultaneously. Because we're living in a world where elementary schools have to "prepare" for mass shootings. Where teachers practice how to shield children from bullets.
Why are we the only country where this happens with such regularity? So far in 2025, at least 57 shootings at K-12 schools nationwide have occurred.
Why can someone legally purchase multiple firearms and plan an elaborate attack on children? Three firearms recovered from the scene had been legally purchased by the shooter, who had recently been issued a permit to purchase firearms.
But here's the question that keeps me up at night: Why are we so quick to blame everything except the obvious gaps in our system?
After Minneapolis, the predictable chorus began. "It's a mental health problem," they said. "We need better security," others chimed in. And while both mental health resources and school security matter, let's be brutally honest about what's different between us and every other developed nation on Earth.
It's not that other countries don't have people struggling with mental health issues. It's not that they don't have violent video games or social media. It's that they have comprehensive systems of checks and balances before someone can access firearms.
Why do we keep offering thoughts and prayers while children keep dying?
Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey said it better than I could: "Prayers are welcome, thoughts certainly welcome, but that's not enough. These kids were literally praying in church and it is on us right now not just to sit back."
Let me be clear: mental health resources in this country are woefully inadequate. As a war veteran living with PTSD, I've navigated these gaps firsthand. The shooter in Minneapolis had left behind disturbing videos and writings, describing "her fascination with violence and obsession with mass shootings." But Robin Westman had no previous arrests, no civil commitments for mental health issues, and was legally able to purchase firearms.
Having served in combat, I understand the devastating power of firearms readily available to civilians. These aren't hunting tools... these are instruments designed for maximum casualties in minimum time.
Most people with mental health struggles, including veterans like me, are far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators. Japan, the UK, and Australia all have mental health struggles, violent video games, and social media. You know what they have that we don't? Comprehensive gun licensing systems, mandatory safety training, and robust background check requirements.
The difference isn't our mental health crisis... though that's real and needs addressing. The difference is that we've made it easier to access firearms than to access mental health care, and we've resisted implementing the basic safety measures that other countries consider standard practice.
Yes, we need better mental health resources... for veterans, for struggling young people, for anyone in crisis. Yes, we need to take threats seriously. Yes, we need to address the culture of violence that glorifies mass shooters. Police Chief Brian O'Hara said the Minneapolis shooter "clearly had a deranged obsession with previous mass shooters" and committed this act "with the intention of causing as much terror, as much trauma, as much carnage as possible for their own personal notoriety."
We live in a country that will move heaven and earth to protect our children from contaminated baby formula, but won't implement comprehensive background checks. We require licenses for driving cars, cutting hair, even selling hot dogs... but in many states, buying a gun designed for warfare requires less oversight than adopting a rescue dog.
The Minneapolis shooter had legally purchased three firearms with no prior criminal record. The current system worked exactly as designed. And that's the problem.
We've created a society where basic safety measures—universal background checks, mandatory waiting periods, licensing and training requirements, safe storage laws—are treated as radical propositions instead of common-sense safeguards.
We don't need to eliminate the Second Amendment (2A). We need to treat gun
ownership with the same responsibility we apply to operating a motor vehicle.
Every parent I know carries a low-level anxiety now that didn't exist when we were kids. We drop our children off with a tiny voice whispering,
"What if this is the day?"
We hear about lockdown drills and our hearts break a little more, knowing our babies have to practice hiding from people who want to hurt them.
For those of us already dealing with trauma, whether from military service or other experiences... this constant threat adds another layer to an already complex mental health landscape. I find myself hyper vigilant in ways that feel familiar from deployment, except now it's at my child's camp / school pickup.
The irony is crushing: while we debate whether mental health causes school shootings, we're creating a generation with trauma-induced anxiety from living under constant threat of school shootings.
One mother from Minneapolis, whose children survived, captured this perfectly:
"I am just incredibly grateful that this school did and had been preparing and also just incredibly sad and angry that this has to be a thing in any school."
We're raising children who know the difference between lockdown drills and fire drills before they can multiply fractions. Teachers like Em Paulson, a paraprofessional in the Minneapolis area, put it starkly: "My teaching community is constantly reminded about how, one day, we may need to stand in between these children and violence."
Think about that. We're asking kindergarten teachers to mentally prepare to die for our children because we won't ask lawmakers to limit access to weapons of war.
"This is what our children's childhood looks like now.
This is the world we've given them."
As someone who served in combat and understands both responsible firearm use and their devastating potential when misused, this isn't about taking away anyone's rights, it's about protecting our most vulnerable.
Yes, we need robust mental health resources. But Robin Westman had no documented history of violence or instability. Even perfect screening wouldn't have flagged someone with no prior issues.
Yes, we need better threat assessment. But the Minneapolis shooter was a former student whose mother had worked at the church until 2021. How do you predict someone returning years later to target their childhood school?
What we can control: making it significantly harder for dangerous people to access weapons that can kill multiple children in seconds.
Address the tool that makes mass casualties possible.
We don't need to eliminate gun ownership. We need to make gun ownership as responsible and regulated as car ownership.
In Minneapolis, staff immediately moved children to safety. First responders rushed toward danger. Communities wrapped grieving families in love. But we're asking teachers to be security guards instead of asking lawmakers to pass laws that would make their heroism unnecessary.
We celebrate the "good guys with guns" while ignoring that Minneapolis had security protocols and practiced drills. Fletcher and Harper are still gone.
We ask everyone except lawmakers to solve this problem. We ask teachers to be guards, children to hide, parents to live with anxiety, communities to heal. But we won't ask legislators to limit access to weapons designed for warfare.
This isn't a simple problem with easy answers. Gun violence sits at the intersection of constitutional rights, public safety, mental health, and cultural factors. But complexity can't excuse inaction while children die.
What if we started with measures most Americans already support? Universal background checks poll at 90% approval. Safety training before firearm ownership has broad support. Safe storage laws enjoy bipartisan backing.
These conversations require good faith from all sides:
If we can't find common ground when 8yr olds are shot while praying, when will we?
I can't move on from Fletcher and Harper. Their names join the too-long list: Sandy Hook, Uvalde, Oxford, Covenant, and now Minneapolis.
Robin Westman's uncle said something haunting:
"I wish [Westman] had shot me instead of innocent schoolchildren."
It's the desperate cry of someone grappling with senseless loss.
This didn't have to happen. We have to vote like our children's lives depend on it. Because they do. We need comprehensive background checks, waiting periods, licensing requirements, and extreme risk protection orders. We need to stop treating gun safety measures and mental health resources as competing priorities—we need both, simultaneously, with urgency.
Tonight, I'll linger longer at bedtime, watching them sleep peacefully. Tomorrow morning, I'll drop them off at some activity again with that same tight hug, probably having similar conversations with other parents grappling with the same fears.
Despite everything, I still believe in education, community, and hope. I'll work toward a future where Fletcher and Harper's deaths weren't in vain, where we found the will to implement immediate safety measures and build comprehensive solutions.
I don't pretend to have all the answers. This problem is bigger and more complex than any single blog post can capture. But as a parent, as a veteran who's seen what weapons can do, as someone living with PTSD who understands both trauma and the importance of mental health resources, I do have questions for gun owners and non-gun owners alike, for parents and legislators, for anyone who read about Minneapolis and felt their heart break:
What immediate steps are you willing to support right now to make it harder for dangerous individuals to access firearms? Universal background checks? Mandatory waiting periods? Required safety training? Safe storage laws?
And looking beyond the immediate crisis, what does a comprehensive solution look like that respects both constitutional rights and children's right to safety? How do we build mental health systems that actually work? How do we address the cultural factors that drive people toward violence as a means of gaining notoriety? How do we create communities where struggling individuals are more likely to reach out for help than to reach for weapons?
This isn't about left versus right, or pro-gun versus anti-gun. This is about all of us—veterans and civilians, gun owners and non-gun owners, parents and grandparents—coming together to protect what matters most.
Because if we can't figure this out together, all of us, across political divides and philosophical differences... then we're condemning another generation of children to grow up practicing hiding under desks instead of just learning to read at them.
Fletcher was 8. Harper was 10. They deserved to grow up in a world where going to school wasn't an act of courage. Where going to church was about faith, not fear.
They are our future. Every child walking into a classroom Monday morning is our future.
What are we going to do about it?
What are your thoughts on finding solutions that protect our children while respecting everyone's rights?
How do we bridge the gap between immediate action and long-term change?
Join BUBS where parents share real experiences, support each other through difficult conversations, and work together toward solutions. Because we're all figuring this out together.
Sources: Reporting from NBC News, NPR, ABC News, CNN, and MPR News on the August 27, 2025 shooting at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis. School shooting statistics from Everytown for Gun Safety.
If you're struggling with anxiety about your children's safety, please know you're not alone. The trauma of living under constant threat affects entire communities. Consider reaching out to other parents, school administrators, or mental health professionals. And please, vote in every election—local, state, and federal. Our children's lives depend on comprehensive solutions that address both access to weapons and access to mental health care.
For immediate help: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (988), Crisis Text Line (text HOME to 741741), or contact your local mental health crisis services.
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