A Tale of Two Terrors

Today I think I’d like to go back in time to give you a little background information.  The names Seek and Destroy may seem a little harsh to you, but I can promise you that I have very legitimate reasons for the names.

From the time that they could wiggle around in their shared crib we learned that these two guys were a team.  We also learned that this meant that there was not a pressure baby gate that they could not bring down and no drawer that could not be opened and climbed into.  So we bolted our baby gates to the walls and baby proofed every drawer.  We even had to duct tape our stove drawer shut.

Let me take you to a cold (of course) and a hectic December in 1999.   The Artiste is 5, Seek and Destroy are 2 years 3 months old, Papa Bear is in Australia for 13 days (I remember each day with painful clarity) and I am 5 months pregnant.

No family around, no household help and what the heck happened to my friends?

I would like to add at this point that as a child I was a tough kid.  It took a lot to get me to cry – being yelled at and/or spanked did not do it for me.  Somehow it all changed when I became an aunt.  Go figure.

I also have a theory that our children are like wild animals and can smell weakness.  They know who to circle and how to bring her down.  Can you see where I’m heading?

Over the course of two weeks Seek and Destroy managed to: empty a shampoo bottle on the kitchen floor, pull a television off of the stand and break a toe, take the lid off the toilet tank and wedge it between the toilet and the wall.  I swear, I do not really drink (never when pregnant) and I was always around.  These are really small potatoes when compared to their grand finale.  It was Boxing Day and I was exhausted.  The kind of exhausted that you feel only when you are pregnant. I NEEDED a nap.  I put the twins down for their nap and called over my teenaged next door neighbour to watch the Artisite while I napped.  A pregnant nap.  I awoke 2 hours later to the sound of hysterical crying coming from the twins’ room.  I rushed in and saw the two of them sitting on their futon (they had learned how to flip themselves out of their cribs many months ago and we had thought that a futon on the floor would be safer) crying their hearts out.  Seek was trembling and horrified, Destroy was crying just as hard but more bewildered than horrified his diaper off and the remains of the day spread everywhere.   Did I say everywhere?  I meant EVERYWHERE!!!!

I called the sitter upstairs and asked her if she heard the boys crying. She told me that she had, but as I was also upstairs she figured that I would have responded to them if they needed attending.  I don’t think that I paid her that day.  Her mother did come over and the two of them bathed the boys while I went to work on the room.  Did I mention that I was pregnant? Pregnant women can be sensitive to vile, offensive odours.  I began cleaning the blinds.  Or I should say cleaning and gagging.  When some things dry they can really be hard to clean.  Cleaning, gagging, crying.  Repeat.  Nothing is getting any cleaner and I am going to be sick.  What to do?  So, I called my husband half way around the world and began to sob, really, really hard.  He then did what only husbands can do and said the magic words,  “Call a cleaning company.”

Me:  “wenh wenh wenh What????”

Him:  “Call a cleaning company, they’ll come in and take care of it.”

Me: “It’s Boxing Day everything is closed wenh wenh wenh.”

Him:  “Just try.”

So, I called and they came!  They removed the carpet, the baseboard heater the blinds the futon and cleaned the walls.  Seek and Destroy shared sleeping quarters since they were conceived, it had to end.

Now, while I get that people may consider this a funny story, it’s still not so funny to me.  My sister said that I would laugh about this one day.  I’m still not laughing, smiling, but not laughing,

By the way, that same New Year’s morning an earthquake awaked me.  I was certain that Armageddon had arrived.  I think it will be the end of the world before Papa Bear’s allowed to go so far away for so long, the kids have gotten older but I’m afraid that I’ve just gotten weaker and easier to take down

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4 responses to “A Tale of Two Terrors

  1. Sorry, I am still hysterical and repulsed all at the same time! The moral of course is “never let them catch you napping”. It’s also, ” teenagers can be idiots”.

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