Hey Oprah! Do you believe in ghosts? Greg doesn’t. In fact he loves to come in when I am watching “Ghost Hunters” and do his own dorky running dialog of what is happening. It’s all in jest to ruin my guilty pleasure and show me how he thinks the show is a bunch on nonsense. (Not unlike how I treat him when he is watching re-runs of “The Next Generation” for the nine millionth time. We have a great deal of respect for each other’s viewing pleasures.
This is not really where this post is going…but it leads me to Mikey’s irrational fears rearing their ugly head. Like me, the kid has an almost uncontrollable to desire to watch scary stuff, only after he does, his imagination runs away with him. I don’t know how this started, but something prompted his fears about “ghosties” when he was three, and I spent every night for six months lying down with him until he fell asleep. Greg and I loved those days when we were robbed of our one hour a day of down time together. It was wonderful one day when the phase had concluded and we were back to normal.
Then Pierce came along and we’ve had some more blocks of down time robbed from us in the late evening, although, thankfully, not with the same consistency. Here we are…Halloween on the horizon along with my Halloweenie’s birthday party that is always thrown in ghoulish style. It’s all very thrilling and fun until bedtime. Then suddenly and tearfully it becomes terrifying.
A couple of nights ago ramped up on cold medicine and a waxing full moon, Mikey crawled into bed. I went in to tuck both of the boys in and give hugs and kisses, and all was well. Leaving the room, turning on the hall light, I went to wash my face. I had barely removed my mascara and both Mikey and Pierce push their way into the bathroom. Mikey with tears in his eyes says to me “I feel like I’m having a bad dream!” Since I had left their bedroom 30 seconds before, I knew it wasn’t a nightmare. I told him that it couldn’t be a dream since he surely hadn’t gotten to sleep already. I guess it was his imagination running away with him very quickly—like in half a minute. He had decided he couldn’t sleep alone, even though his brother is in the bed four feet away. Having flash backs, I crawled in and snuggled with him until he fell asleep. The next night—the same drama. I was mentally saying goodbye to this season of “Boardwalk Empire,” “American Horror,” and “Homeland.” The third night with the full moon hitting its apex at 7:38p.m. (give or take a minute or so), I was working with my client at her home. I kept wondering if Greg was in bed with Mikey talking him off the ledge of ghastly fantasies. When I finally got home, the boys were asleep, and had gotten there of their own accord. Dad didn’t have sleep with them, lucky ba$#@%d! Funny how the full moon had already begun to wane thirty minutes before bed time, along with someone’s ramped up neuroses. I know people think I’m nuts, but I have too much evidence not to buy into the sinister motives of that glorious, glowing orb.
On a side note, Pierce got sick the next day and has been for the past four, so I’ve been (once again) clinging to the edge of a twin mattress while my feverish, coughing, four-year-old, lays perpendicularly to me with his head on my hip. This sleeping position was rotated regularly by fish flopping into various other ones that equally disrupted my attempts to sleep. At one point, I could hear him breathing like he was whimpering. I asked him what was wrong, and he just kept pointing at the wall and whining like there was something creepy there. I showed him by touching the wall that nothing was there, and he just kept pointing and moving his arm to the right as though whatever was there had crawled over to the corner. I think he was actually asleep and dreaming, but his creep-factor didn’t do much for my already distressing sleeping circumstances. Now Greg was going to have to join us in the twin bed just to calm me down!