Sometimes when I'm alone in the car with the girls and their diapers are filled to the brim and they're screaming their balls off I wonder when in my life I've been the closest to death. Either when I've been the closest to death or brownies. Usually one or the other.

It's not like I'm not a morbid person or anything, I just need some sort of distraction when I'm trapped in the car with two screaming kids and the thought of death just naturally pops in my head.

Was it the time my car broke down on the highway in the middle of the night, pre-cell phones? Was it the time I did 22 shots on my 21st birthday? Or maybe when I ate five corn dogs at the State Fair?

There are actually a lot more but this is a family blog and also my Mom reads it so I'm just mentioning a few of the more legal life-threatening things that I've done.

But notice how all of these events took place during the college era. Since then the biggest risk I've taken is cooking up some sketchy salmon.

Boy do I suck.

But all of these things, both legal and illegal, pale in comparison to what happened on Saturday. Or how I shall refer to November 20 from here on out - "The Day I Freaked The Fuck Out".

Nick was at work and I was hanging out with the girls. You know, like every single other day of my life. Ellie was throwing a tantrum of titantic proportions and Lila was trying to fall asleep so I took her upstairs for a nap, leaving Ellie with her head spinning while she tried to set her toys on fire.

I was upstairs maybe 45 seconds and while walking down the stairs I noticed something strange. It was quiet. And if it's one thing I've learned about kids it's that quiet is bad.

Quiet is I found a knife in the drawer and I'm going to see what body parts bleed the fastest. Quiet is I've found a nail on the ground and I wanted to see what it tasted like. Quiet is some pedophile jimmied his way in through the back door and I'm eating peanut brittle in the back of an unmarked white van.

It was quiet.

So I picked up my gate and ran into the playroom and it was empty. As was the kitchen. And the bathroom. The only three rooms she can access when the baby gate is closed.

The back door was locked as was the garage door and the basement door still had the eyelet lock hooked.

There was literally no where else for her to be.

Ok, so there have been several times in my life when I've used the word 'panicked'.

I pulled up to DQ and I panicked because the lights were off.

I opened the bottle of wine and I panicked because it had gone bad.

I panicked because I took off my bra and my nipples actually touched my belt.

No. I never truly appreciated the act of the panic until this exact moment. Well, except maybe the wine one.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, feeling like a bird caught in a chimney - totally frantic but no where to go. True, raw, unbridled, primitive... panic.

Nothing but two thoughts spun around in my head:

1. Every second she's gone is one more second she can hurt herself
2. I am definitely going to prison.

It's true. Practically every single thing I do during the day I first ask myself how it will sound if I had to explain it to a police officer if it goes bad.

"Well, officer. She really likes to pretend like she's driving my car and..."

Ok, back to the story. So there I was, standing in the kitchen, my mind RACING in COMPLETE AND UTTER sheer panic. I ran back into the play room and I didn't know what to do or where to go. I don't even think I was breathing. I just started spinning around in circles.

Then I heard "Mooo!" from behind the toy box, under the jumparoo.

There she was, crouched under there playing a fun little game of hide and seek. I'm not even going to think about why she said "Mooo". It's beside the point and would probably launch me into some sort of eating disorder.

I was suddenly aware that there was a pulse in my ear drums and then my knees went weak. The room started spinning and then started to go dark and I felt a shooting pain in my chest. I sat down and felt like I had just finished a marathon.

Oblivious to everything she had just put me through, Ellie crawled out and turned on the TV.

I was paralyzed. It was 45 minutes before I stopped shaking. That was definitely the closest I've been to death so far in my life.

Seriously, people. That took ten years off my life. I found a gray hair in my eyebrow this morning.

Now THAT'S something to panic about.


MommyLovesStilettos said...

Been there, done that. And that feeling came rushing back while I was reading your post! It's far worse than anything I ever experienced in college.

Hannah said...

Oh god - just typing that story made my palms sweat. I'm currently fashioning a device that keeps her tethered to my leg at all times.

CarrieS. said...

Remember a couple of Christmas' ago at Megan's house when you guys all went upstairs and left me alone with 4 children downstairs? It was either Carter or Griffin... and Rhyen looks at me and says "I think he's got something in his mouth." I said "Rhyen what the hell do i do?". She shrugged. I picked him up, flipped him to his belly and ran like hell up the stairs, jiggling him the whole way screaming MEGGGGAAANNNN. I panicked. Don't ever leave Carrie alone with a child to young to fend for itself. Ever. I don't do well with panic, it's no secret.