Life in our Shoes

I know better than this. I know not to play the what if game. It leads down a very slippery slope into no good, very bad land. It also makes my anxiety (and comfort eating) increase by tenfold. But today, I’m doing just that.

The day started off great, which around here generally means if things start off great, they have no other way to go but down. We were buying Thing 2 a new bike, Thing 1 a new skateboard and everyone was just generally happy. Some house news came in that was great (but later turned out to be the beginning of the bad day). That led to an upsetting phone call that took my sensitive, cry over everything self, a long time to calm down from. Once I did, another call came in that started me in tears all over again. But, that is all irrelevant.

I don’t know if I had an extremely short, bad day, induced fuse or if Thing 2 was behaving extra badly. That line kind of gets blurred for me on occasion. Either way, I just did not have the patience to tell him for the 50th time to stop pulling apart the playhouse and smashing the pieces into things. So, I sent him to his room and told him to sit quietly until I said he could come down. He usually doesn’t sit quietly, and in fact often turns on his radio and sings. Some punishment, huh?

Anyhow, this time he was quiet. Never, ever trust a quiet four year old. I don’t know how much time passed. It could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes or 30 years for all I know. I just know it was too quiet. So I called for him to come down. He didn’t. I jokingly said to The Squatch, “Hey, maybe he fell asleep!” Wishful thinking.

He wasn’t in his bed. Or in his closet which is his go to hiding spot. Or in fact, anywhere in his room. My next stop was the bathroom. Nope, not there either. Was he perhaps in Thing 1′s bed? No. On a whim, I opened her closet. My heart stopped. It was like I was living my nightmare (literally. I’ll post my nightmare at the end of this post)

There sat Thing 2 with a plastic bag over his head. Not the grocery store kind, but the kind that a sheet set would come in. It felt like it took me a million years to bend down and pull it off. He was fine, wide awake and alert, but he knew I was clearly upset. I think he perceived my tears and shaking as upset over his behavior as he repeatedly apologized while I just hugged him, rocking on the floor.

We had a talk (that also included Thing 1) about the importance of never, ever putting anything over your face and why. He told me that he wasn’t having trouble breathing but that he promised never to do it again anyhow.

I, on the other hand, promised myself to never leave plastics bags laying around. I feel awful. What if I had assumed he fell asleep and didn’t go up to check? What if I waited a few minutes longer? What if, what if, what if?

Rescue Remedy is my best friend today.

Oh, right, I almost forgot. My nightmare. It was about two weeks ago. I dreamed I came into the room looking for Thing 2 and he was sitting with a plastic bag over his head. Only I found him too late. And unlike most dreams (nightmares) it never faded. It is still crystal clear in my head. The sights, the sounds, the way he felt in my arms. I woke up shaking. Much like I am feeling right now. Because I just can’t stop the shaking.

Little buddy, I can’t imagine life without you. So, let’s keep the what ifs as only what ifs. They never need to become a reality.

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