Monsters, Inc.

We were cleaning the house tonight, moving piles would be more apt.
For our biweekly, sometimes monthly house cleaner. I had to cancel two weeks ago because it was outrageously, scandalously, disgustingly crowded. For a former minimalist, it puts me to shame. I have panic attacks in my own home.
Shyte aplenty.

So I canceled, and it's now four to five weeks later, and although I've run the vacuum and my child isn't yet coughing up hairballs, one can see the difference.

And as I was moving piles, migrating from basement, to kitchen, to playroom, to living room, I hard what sounded like thunderous ants. The patter patter sans pitter of 36 plus pounds overhead. And the racing from one room, to the next. And I knew as I sprinted towards the bottom step that I was going to intercept her half asleep and crying, having looked in two rooms for Mommy or Daddy. I made it to the bottom step before the first wail, and as I took them two at a time, she never really rolled it up into more then a whimper.

Bedheaded, hair sticking out where wet pigtails had been, in her Minnie Mouse nightgown where I tricked her into yellow polka dot leggings to stay warm.

I dropped to me knees before the top step and folded her into my arms.

"Hi baby, Mummas right here. What's the matter boo?"
And she climbed up - using my hip as a stepstone, into my arms, head deep into my neck.

"Something scared me"
"It was Daddy in the kitchen honey, we're closing drawers. Daddy is just putting things away."
"Noooo" she cried. "Not Daddy. Monsters. I heard monsters."
"You did?!" I feigned delight. "Oh how exciting! Monsters! Where? What color?"
"Pink" she said emphatically. "I heard a pink monster. I drew it on my picture. It scared me."
We walked into her room and I lay her down on the full size bed, the one she calls "Mommy's bed" and I snuggled up next to her.
"Tell me about the monster" I asked."What color was it?"
"I told you already" she said earnestly "It was pink. No. It was blue. It was dark blue"
"Was it Cookie Monster?" I asked, deliberately widening my eyes. "Ohh so exciting."
"No Mommy, it wasn't cookie monster. It was a real monster."

And I looked at the closet door and it was dark. And I thought for a second 'What if there IS a monster. What if someone snuck in. What if someone's lurking. What if someone is outside, and up to no good. What if the neighbors grandson and his dungeon and dragon cloaked friends are plotting a real live murder and thinking we're as good bait as any. What if, what if, what if....'


So I snuggled closer and said "Maybe the monster was lonely and got lost. Maybe the monster was looking for his Mommy to go to bed, it's bedtime for monsters too" For a minute I was going to suggest that she share her bed with the monster and they could sleep together but no sooner had I imagined it, I saw the insanity of it. Really. "yes dear, the monster is going to actulize and sleep ON your bed"

"Do you want me to call the monster in here and tell him to leave you alone?"
and with that she flipped up onto all fours and looked me directly in the eyes.
"Um, no. No, thank you. You can call him tomorrow. On the phone."

"Oh" Of course, she doesn't want me to actually call him IN here.

"I'll call the monster tomorrow and tell him to leave you alone.
"Ok."
And she sat up straighter.
"Mommy. Which monster are you afraid of?"

and then a million things happened at once.

I thought I'm afraid of monsters on wheels, big pieces of machinery that could mow down my child, my husband. I'm afraid of monster uterus's, that starve my pregnancies and cause me to miscarry, I'm afraid of monster men, the kind that could attack my child. I'm afraid of monsters masked as everyday people, monsters that hate and seek to hurt. There are monsters out there. And yes, I am, deeply, afraid of them.

So I told her the truth.

"Mommy's not afraid of real monsters honey, real monsters are nice. Mommy's only afraid of the ones that are pretend. The ones Mommy imagines."

And then I started to feel tears for all the ways she could get hurt. I could get hurt. Anything that tries to live inside me could get hurt.
Then I hugged her.
Tight.
My sweet baby girl.

She's practical, my child, and persistent.
"No Mommy. No. Which monsters are you afraid of? Red ones or pink ones? Which one, Mommy? Pick one."

"Ohhh. Well." And I really thought it over. "I actually really LIKE pink monsters so I guess I'm only afraid of the ones with polka dots."

And eventually we moved on to Wheels on The Bus.




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