AnchorMommy

Eeek! The frights of parenting

November 2, 2009 by Shannon

This is what I tweeted last week during one of Kellan’s unsuccessful naptime attempts:

Was it ever. There was screaming start to finish. I got him calmed down for a few minutes, but then the shrieking got even louder, at which point I tweeted this:

And then it occurred to me that yes, parenting does indeed mirror horror movies in a number of ways.

1. Spurting bodily fluids. At the risk of alienating all of my non-parent readers, I will not get into details about the granddaddy of all bodily fluid spurting incidents — childbirth. Nope. Not mentioning that at all. Moving on. So, babies are notorious for spurting pee –especially boys. You will get peed on. And if you’re anything like me, it will happen more than once. You will forget to put a lid on it, so to speak, and you’ll find yourself soaked by a fountain of urine, AGAIN. I thought we were past all those pee-spraying days, but now that we’re firmly entrenched in potty training, there’s a lot of spurting going on again. It is HORRIFYING. (Note: I am knocking on wood that I will never experience the horrors of spurting blood. But he’s a boy. I know it’s going to happen, just like I know that the main character in a horror film will not look behind the door and see the evil guy. It’s just gonna happen.)
2. Things that go “bump” in the night. Sometimes things go “bump” or they go “Mommeeeeee! I need a dwink!” Or they go, “Hey! Mommy? Get up, Mommy!” a half inch from my face, causing me to bolt upright in terror. I love my little boy’s face, but when I come out of a deep sleep to see him staring at me from a few millimeters away, it is startling, to say the least.
3. Silence is scary. The only thing worse than bloodcurdling screams is pure quiet. The kind of stillness you could cut with a knife. Because you know — you just know in your heart — that the silence means something TERRIBLE has happened. Something like opening your child’s bedroom door to find the entire contents of a dirty diaper spread on the crib and pillow like peanut butter on bread.

Yeah, #3 has happened to me. And I’m still traumatized. This parenting thing can be frightening.