If Jesus was a babysitter, he himself, would have exorcised the demon that came out of my toddler during her massive nuclear level toddler meltdown.
This morning started off incredibly beautiful. There was no falsetto alarm clock, no hell bird, no phone calls, just a ridiculous self-inflicted Angel moment.
The sun began to peek through the blinds diffused, soft, warm. I begin to slowly rustle from my long overdue hibernation, grunting and tossing around. As I struggle to open my eyes, because apparently eye crust to the super glue level is a thing, I hear both kids in my oldest’s bedroom giggling and cackling away.
My eyes finally free of the crust, I stare at my ceiling; listening to the cawks, tosses, and wails of children playing. I suddenly feel an unfamiliar presence on my chest. It was heavy, foreign, unknown. Stiff as a board, afraid to look around out of fear of seeing someone next to me, I close my eyes.
Oh my God, if someone’s in my house my gun in still in the closet in the bio safe. Can I get to it in time? Am I going to die? The kids are awake.
The unknown appendage crawling, moving closer and closer to my neck. Panic setting in like gasoline poured on a fire, breathing rapidly in succession. Fingers slowly inching their way closer and closer to my jugular. Taking a deep breath, I muster every ounce of courage I had to fight off the unknown intruder.
In a fury of fist swings, pillow hadukens, and threats of death, silence filled the bedroom. Did I win? It’s no longer moving. Please tell me I won.
Suddenly my left arm begins to throb in excruciating pain. Choking back tears, I look over to my now mangled and deformed hand. The bedroom erupting in my pubescent embarrassed laughter. My left arm slowly regaining its color from the beating my right gave it.
Rolling over, I cupped my arm, apologizing thoroughly for thinking it was an intruder. After a few minutes of coddling, anger set in and I began to scold my arm for daring to fall asleep on me.
My oldest peeking in the doorway, face halved holding back laughter, “Mom, you okay over there?”
Dodging the fluffy headrest, he ran back into his room laughing maniacally.
Laying there for a few more moments, I finally decided to get my self out of bed and head downstairs to make the kids breakfast.
I yell from the bottom of the stairs that breakfast’s done and for them to bring their booties downstairs and eat my failure of scrambled eggs with mushrooms and cheese. Both kids rush downstairs, my oldest asking why the kitchen is smokey.
His question is returned with death stare. He stopped moving briefly, gave me a hug, and got his sister ready for breakfast.
Breakfast taking a little longer than normal, as both kids were examining the state of the egg concoction I threw together. Finally after some coaxing, both kids engulf their food. My oldest grabs the plates and puts them in the sink before heading upstairs, sister in tow, so mom can get some work done.
A few hours pass at a snails pace, my emails full of rejections from job applications, my soul defeated more and more as the seconds sluggishly turn minutes. Glancing down at the clock on my computer, I notice that it’s time for little miss attitude’s nap.
Rolling my chair backwards I head toward the bottom of the stairs, where I’m rapidly greeted by my frustrated 10-year-old over his sister’s loss of her mind.
“Is it her nap time yet?” He asked eyes wide and face stern.
I nodded in agreement heading up the stairs to get her ready for what appears to be a long overdue nap. She greets me excited at her brother’s doorway. Bending over I pick her up, she’s full of giggles while waving bye to her brother.
I toss her sippy cup and ask him to run downstairs and fill it, which he did rapidly, because it meant he got some time to himself. Even though he takes her to his room every morning, willingly might I add, so they can play together.
I get her changed, my son sitting her nap time drank on the rower behind me.
I pick her up and go to lay her down in her crib, her legs kicking in defiance. Calmly I explain to her that it’s nap time and she finally goes in without a fight. That was at least until she noticed that her blanket wasn’t where she wanted it.
With her tiny hands, she forcefully grabs her blanket, screaming while it refuses to cooperate with her. Bending over the crib, I grab her blanket and fluff it to fill the crib. Apparently she didn’t want it there, and threw a banshee wail in disgust.
I bend over once again to grab her blanket to help, when suddenly she pushes my hands away yelling, “No!” Stepping back slightly appalled at the ferocity she had with her no, watching her slowly meltdown over this blanket.
Turning my back to head back downstairs, this little 27 lb girl released the most disgusting guttural scream. I stopped dead in my tracks, slowing turning around to see tiny fists and blanket parts flying everywhere.
“Do you need help?” Choking back any laughter trying to crack through.
She went stiff, face blank, Children of the Corn death staring me down. I froze, fearing that any motion would trigger her even harder than the blanket currently had. It didn’t help, she went full nuclear toddler meltdown in a matter of seconds.
Howling, screaming, crying, tiny fists flying, the blanket crying at me for help. I stood there not knowing what to do.
The damn breaking under the pressure of her tears, her mouth open soundless, I sighed. She very quickly snapped her head at me, angry that I wasn’t trying to help. I mean, at that point, I didn’t know what to do or how to help her. Mainly out of the fear that me being next to her would set her off even more.
Once more she screams, her tiny hands losing all control, the blanket shoved in a corner; wrinkled, battered, bruised.
Then suddenly silence.
She gave one look of death and then fell over like a freshly cut log. Did my daughter just die? What just happened? Wait, what?
I rush over to the crib and place my hand gently on her back. She was breathing, which very quickly turned to full out grown man snore. Her head half cocked on the beaten blanket in the corner.
I quietly laughed and began my dangerous journey down the stairs and back to my computer.