"Are you cray cray?'' The hubs yelled down to me from the lit up deck. He was hopping from one foot to the other with the baby swaddled in his arms.
"You KNOW I'm cray cray!" I yelled back up to him opening the boot of the minivan to make sure no ax murderer was hiding in there, waiting for Momma to drive down some deserted country road before he strikes.
God knows what I was planning on doing with him if I'd actually found a maniac in the trunk. What's even more cray cray is my haste to see what's in the backseat as I'm closing the trunk just in case the nutter in question (no, not me) scales over in to the trunk from the back seat.
It's not impossible. cray cray, definitely, but not completely out of the question.
I'd thought cray cray was my husband's cute made up thang. But when 'Black Sue' used it in my current Netflix addiction Glee yesterday, I was tickled pink! My hubs is a teacher too. It's a school kid thang. Go figure!
Anyway, the point is, I'm a start raving lunatic. Still.
Those of you that have known me any length of time on a personal level, can vouch for my obsession with checking closets and under beds and in car boots (thank God we've ditched all our bed frames for box springs - no sucker's getting under there!) for murderers lying in wait.
You'd think I'd have grown up a bit by now, what with having my own kids' I have to reassure when they're afraid of Monsters.
Shhhh, don't tell them - but Momma is more scared than they are!
The other morning baby girl and I left my two boys on Momma's bed, safely watching Netflix on my laptop, while we girls went to brew coffee. But when I turned on the monitor (to check they weren't killing each other) this is what I saw:
Anyone else spot the ghost in the background?
Okay - so it ended up just being a reflection of my 22 month old in the mirror. But still - my heart just about stopped beating. I had to take a pic. And even Daddy was disturbed..
''I don't like that." He shuddered.
Me neither Daddy Bear! Me neither.
Later that same day we were playing hide and seek, and it was Momma's turn to hide. Daddy was rocking the baby in the cabin part of the house, and both boys were game to be seekers.
So, I thought: Bingo! I'll hide someplace awesome and get a bit of a break.
Of course I picked my closet. I turned off the light and crawled to the back corner under all my coats and dresses then waited. I could hear the kids calling Momma as they looked under duvets and behind doors. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the peace.
My peace lasted a millisecond before my horror-movie addled brain flashed ludicrous closet looming poltergeists through my brain and I could hardly breathe I was so frigging petrified. Why couldn't I think about The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe as oppose to some Japanese rip-off horror movie?
I heard Daddy suggest the bedroom. What was taking them so long? They love to play in Momma's closet!
I decided they'd likely been distracted by a ball or a sock and I couldn't bear it any longer. I came tearing out of there yelling 'surprise!'
Okay, a slight variation of the rules, but that's how my big kid likes to roll too. And luckily Momma wasn't eaten by the boogeyman.
Phew! Close one.
Just now I turned off their blue nightlight to encourage the boys to fall asleep. It may sound mean - especially after my last confession - but it doesn't seem to freak them out or anything. It just effectively blinds them, so they stop getting out of their beds.
I figured out this little trick the other day when they were really giving Super-Nanny a run for her money.
I didn't bank on it freaking Momma out. I was just sitting there on the boy's carpet singing Christmas carols until they fell asleep, when I got a severe case of the heebie jeebies. I couldn't see anything except the green light on the humidifier and I swear I felt something behind me. We hadn't left the house today, but had I been in the closet at all?
Oh God, Oh God. Oh, God!
I tried to convince myself that if there were a God, no way in the world would he let anything happen to a Momma and her two baby boys at lights out while singing Away in a Manger on the run up to Christmas.
I said if.
I couldn't see well enough to reinsert the nightlight, and I'd just end up waking the boys up if I tried, so I ended up cracking the door to let some light flood in. I also closed the sliding door in the closet. (I've seen Monsters INC.)
I waited for my eyes to adjust so I could give the little guys back their nightlight, before I left. Don't want them waking up in the dark....
Although, the hubs was just talking about the health benefits of sleeping in a dark room the other night. He mentioned something about looking forward to when we finally get our room back to ourselves so we could turn the closet light off at night.
I just looked at him in horror.
Does he not remember who he married?
A few years ago I was talking to a close friend about my 'cray cray' (although we weren't cool enough to call it that) and she said something very profound.
"Don't you think all this time you spend freaking out is much longer and more excruciating than what the actual murder would be?"
Hmmm. She had a point.
But it didn't stop the cray cray.
Once my hubs had seen me safely into the car, I continued to glance back at the back seat every minute or so during my short drive to town. Before I'd even left the yard I had my hand up at the car ceiling searching for the inside light switch to flick on.
Even when I'm sure the car is devoid of crazies (bar one) - I'm still not entirely convinced a lady in a white nighty won't appear on the road in front of me. That's what happened to Michelle Pfeiffer, right?
But hey, what's a little cray cray among friends?
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