Pregnant
with twins, I was working as an apartment manager so I could be a stay at home
mom. One of my jobs was to collect rent
checks. Across the hall, in the empty
apartment there was a mail slot that the tenants could drop their rents into. Quite convenient when you don’t want to drag
a 2 year old with you every stop you make to pick up the money. One day, I quietly slipped out of my apartment;
careful not to close the door so that my two year old wouldn’t be left by
herself, alone, in the apartment. I went across the hall to grab the envelopes
when I heard my door creaking behind me.
I quickly turned around. With a grin on her face, Jennie, my two year
old slammed the door behind me. No
biggie, I was the apartment manager, and I had the only master key in the
complex. And it was safe, inside my apartment, with my 2 year old. I was locked out. That was it. I had thoughts
running through my head about my poor Jennie locked inside by herself. Did I turn off my curling iron? Would she find it? Would she find the
cleaning supplies? Could she make herself a sandwich if she got hungry? How
quickly I forgot that it was she that has left me out in the cold. The cute
smiley face that closed the door on me will be the last memory I would have of
her if something were to go wrong. That
cute face would be my motivation to get back in…but it would not be an easy
task. I knocked on the door hoping she would respond. I could hear her in there. “Mommy” she called? We were such good
parents. Thanks to the child proof
locks, Jennie would not ever be able to escape. Or… let me back in. My efforts were fruitless.
In my
frantic state, I was surprised that I remembered that I left the balcony door
unlocked. Why lock it when you live on
the 3rd level? Who in their right mind would climb up 3 stories to
get in? Oh, that’s right, ME, to retrieve my little innocent 2 year old. My
climb would be treacherous, and hard since I wasn’t sure my 7 month belly bump
(with twins) was smaller than my arm span, not to mention the haul it would
take to heave myself over the balcony railing. But, it was necessary. I had to get back in. As I climbed, the first
one was easy, since it was nearly ground level.
It was getting to a standing position on top of the railing that began
my fear. I couldn’t look down. I pulled myself up on to the 2nd
level, realizing I was stronger than I knew, or else, it was the sheer
adrenaline flowing through me. Just as I
was standing on the railing of the 2nd balcony ready to pull myself
up to the 3rd, the rent checks that I forgot were in my pocket,
fluttered down into the bottom balcony.
Well, at least they were safe…
As I
pulled myself up to my balcony, I could see in my sliding glass window. Who would be there to greet me? Jennie. She was staring at me, laughing
hysterically. She THEN tried to open up
the balcony door. On my two year olds
face, was not a look of concern. Not a
look of “oh look what mommy has done to save me” kind of look. She simply
looked at me and said…”Funny mommy.”
I had
been deceived by a 2 year old, which left me scaling the balconies of a 3 story
apartment building. I want to say that I
was Spiderman, but there was no spider super power anywhere. Just an anxious mom worried about her 2 year
old.
As our
children grow older, we grow older, and our keen sense of awareness dims. I,
again, was deceived by a child. This
time it was my 5th child. He
was also 2 years old. The deceit came
when I least expected it. It usually
does, because who expects to be deceived by their children? Well, maybe “older”
children have that ability, but not when they are 2. Right? Riiiigggghhhht….
This
little toddler, Kyle, was so darling.
Nobody could resist his charm.
That is the most dangerous thing about this now 15 year old boy. He has it all going on. He would look at you with his dark hair and
dark eyes, and just give you a little smile.
Not a smile of shyness, it was as if he was flirting, daring you to kiss
him. He was the center of attention where ever he was. And he knew how to give just enough attention
but leaving you thirsty for more. He
loved to play with little tiny objects.
Lego men were among his favorites. He often would hand me little things
wanting to engage me in some playtime.
On this particular day, I was cleaning
my house. I love clean things. Clean house and clean children are on the top
of my list. Kyle was playing in the next
room. I was so pleased that everything
in my sight was clean and smelt good. This
darling boy walked over to me, and with a little smile on his face, he reached
up to me with his hand out. I knew this
gesture was “please come play with me”. But
I had to keep cleaning before the other children came home to destroy any
“cleanliness” I had created. So I didn’t
have time. So I thought maybe just a
kiss would suffice. My arms were full of cleaning supplies, so it
wasn’t possible to pick him up. Any attention from him wasn’t quite enough. I
couldn’t let this moment pass. So, instead
of picking him up, I just grabbed his little hand and just started kissing
it. It was an irresistible move on my
part. Until I realized what then crossed my lips, probably sitting on my lips, was something completely
horrific. The kind where worst nightmares
lie. I looked at his darling little hand. It was covered in a brown substance. Wait, it could be just chocolate, but it was
wishful thinking. I knew the smell of
chocolate. And this wasn’t chocolate.
And unfortunately the smell that came from his sweet little hand was
something extremely offensive. I didn’t
understand why this little, sweet hand could be associated with such a
smell. It was poop. Yes it was poop and now it was on my lips.
I am a
mom. I have been deceived several times
in my life. Will I learn? Will it be the reality of grandchildren that
will finally awaken my senses to the deceit these little ones can demonstrate?
Still, I am a mom…that is all.
Jennie in our apartment:
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Cameron and Kyle - Kyle is the little one.
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