Leave My Daughter Out Of It

I swore, I wasn't going to pass on my stuff to my child. I don't mean art and furniture and jewelry and whatnots, I mean my weird little fears and neuroses. The stuff that makes you crazy. That stuff. There is plenty of time and opportunity for her to develop her own issues, thankyouverymuch.

So I was matter of fact about vaccinations, not making any big deal out of them, never suggesting that there would be anything to worry about, just having it be part of the routine of going to see our lovely doctor. I never mentioned the words fear or hurt, because why would I unless there was something to fear or hurt involved? I explained that the nurse was going to put medicine in her arma nd what it was for. When we got flu shots, I went first and made a stringent point of not showing anything, though I had been a needle-phobe of long standing. we thank the nurses after needles, and so get hot chocolate to celebrate. So far, so good. The nurses are always delighted at a child who shows no fear, barely flinches, never cries, and thanks them.

Likewise with spiders. I have made a point of not talking about them. I have made a point of not pointing them out or flinching. I will resolutely ignore a spider in the room and calmly do away with it. (Yes calmly - I am pretty accustomed to killing my own spiders, actually, unless I simply can't reach them.) Last summer, I saw her getting ready to flip her hoodie on, when she noticed something on it as it lay on the floor. She was ushering it off of her hood, flicking at it with her finger and saying, "Shoo! Shoo!" It was a spider. She didn't seem freaked out at all. I stepped on it, but said nothing more than that they did not belong in the house. So far, so good.

Until just the other night.

3 am. Pumpkinpie comes down the hall, crying, climbs into our bed. There is a spider in her bed, "next to her Groovy Girl." Despite our usual policy, we are too tired to deal and leave her in our bed for a bit.

3:30 am. She will not stop talking and thrashing. Misterpie goes spider hunting so she can return to her own bed. He finds nothing, but tells her the spider is now dead and in the garbage and there is nothing to worry about, tucks her back in.

3:45 am. More footsteps, more crying. Bad dreams or spider worries or something. No sleep is being had. We again let her try to sleep between us.

4:15 am. No dice. Kid tried for a while, but just can't be quiet or stop moving. Back to her own bed again.

4:30 am. Footsteps and crying again. Argh. She crawls back in the middle. More thrashing. More talking.

5:00 am. She finally kicks me right in the belly. Last straw. Misterpie takes her to her own room again. She goes hysterical. Neighbours are probably dialing 911. He is growling at her to stay in her bed. Everyone is too tired to deal well with any of this, so I wander down the hall to listen to what is happening from outside her door and go to the bathroom. Soon, it's quiet.

8:00 am. I wake. I should be out the door for work right now. The drywall guy should be at the door right now. Pumpkinpie should be waking to get ready for a field trip right now. It's quiet and dark. Misterpie is not in bed. I sneak into pumpkinpie's room, spot him curled up in the story chair sleeping, her sprawled on her bed, covers thrown aside. I whisper his name, he comes out, and we decide that she should get up and go on the trip, risking meltdown, as otherwise, meltdown is assured when she misses it.

8:20 am. She is dressed in record time - I did all the laundry this weekend, so choosing clothes is easy, for once. I dress quickly while Misterpie feeds her.

8:40 am. We let in the drywall fellow and Misterpie drives me to the subway and Pumpkinpie to daycare. I ask him to call work and let them know I'll be late, dash down the stairs to the platform, sink into the subway seat, and let out a sigh of relief.

Sometimes, maybe twice a year, we have a week or two of bad nights. I think we were all slightly tense about that possibility. Before bed, Misterpie and I had a strategy session about how to handle it if she woke again. I said I would go sleep in her bed with her, where she slept more soundly, surrounded by her doggies and in her own space. Before that, at dinner, Pumpkinpie asked, "What if I have a bad dream again?" I told her, my tone light, that that was last night's dream, and now it was done with, and she would have a new dream tonight. Would she like to dream about puppies? Maybe unicorns? No, she thought maybe no dream. Fine with me.

She seemed unsure about whether it had been a dream or reality, though, telling me that she had felt the spider on her neck and it had woken her. I picked up a lock of her hair, joked that it was probably her hair tickling her, wiggling it under her chin. No, she was sure it was real.

All I can say is spiders, just because I am too busy to notice you, it doesn't mean you should go after my child to get my attention! Buggers.

Fortunately, to everyone's relief, she passed the night asleep.