Escape!

Yesterday is a day that will forever live in my memory as the day my youngest daughter slipped her leash, caused mass chaos and hysteria, yelling and screaming (it wasn't just me either) and pretty much freaked Mommy the fuck out – she made it over the gate several times. (And under twice.) Let me back up and explain:

I might have mentioned once or twice that my youngest children reside in “The Gated Community," with toys, TV, dress-up dresses, and dolls. Many times a day, I hear "pitter-patter" footsteps followed by high-pitched girl squeals that pierce my brain like little sonar ice picks. (Wielded by angry leprechauns. On steroids.) And like an expensive residential community, the Gated Community is exclusive (population 2) and requires committee approval to enter (our criteria is simply anyone under three-and-a-half feet tall) but it's also sort of like a prison in that they’re not supposed to escape. They get time outside (or, “outside recreation”-slash-“living room time”) for good behavior, and put back in “behind bars” for bad behavior.

I had (kind of) suspected for a few weeks that something big was up because she’d been really nice and well-behaved. She must have been planning her “Andy Defresne” escape (kissing ass as she made headway on her escape: she “crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side." Well, technically, she only crawled twice - she climbed the other 115 times. And there was no shit, just so everyone's clear on that, it was just a quote from a movie.)

I just … wasn’t expecting the tantrums and a sudden lack of holding facility THAT day. I'm not ready, dammit! I haven't child-proofed the living room, or fixed the door handle in the bathroom, nothing! She had free reign for her terror spree!

She made it out of the room first thing in the morning, just as I was finishing up with the dogs. I covered my suprise with a "Well, hello there!" greeting, then continued our morning ritual: diaper change, highchair, fill dog dishes, etc. I fed her a huge breakfast (hoping that food would make her forget, or that it was a total fluke) and put her back in her room. She usually calmly walks over, sits down, and starts watching TV, but not that day - she started throwing a hissy fit, falling to the floor (gently, because she threw herself down on the hardwood floor once, and she's more careful now) screaming in octaves that made the dog wince the whole while like she'd lost a finger. After ascertaining that all of her digits were in fact intact and not severed, I went back the living room and waited.

And then she arrived, bursting into the living room like she'd never seen civilation and had absolutely no idea how to react to "no-no" items. She wasn't raised by wolves, dammit! She has sat quietly one point or another, I'm pretty sure... But that day it was like King Kong and the scryscraper - she was hitting/smashing/grabbing/jumping on stuff, followed by my "No, Daphne!" yell, then laughter (hers) and hitting/smashing/grabbing/jumping on stuff again, followed by a smack on her (diapered) bottom, then screaming and crying (mine and hers.) Rinse, lather, repeat. Where are the airplanes and the army when you need them? King Kong has possessed my precious baby girl! She never throws fits like this!

After she went over the gate a few times, I raised it, creating a small space underneath that I didn't think she could fit through. And I was right. Kind of. She tried to climb the gate, couldn't get her leg up to it, and promptly "threw" herself to the ground (carefully) and then suddenly noticed the opening. I was watching from the hallway, and she flipped over like an Olympic gymnist and slid right underneath, slick as snot. Well, until her head got stuck - then she screamed bloody murder! I slid her back INTO the room (all the while telling her that this is why girls shouldn't go underneath gates) and as soon as I stopped actively sliding her in, she started sliding back underneath. Yep, her head got stuck again. I bitched at her some more while I un-hooked the gate, slid her into her room, and re-attached the gate. She was still screaming (in anger) so I left, but as soon as she realized she couldn't fit "under" she tried "over" and escaped again.

But I can honestly say it was a difficult day for both of us since my honey was at work, I had little to no sleep, and OH MY GOG! SHE'S HITTING MY TV! And that was the final straw! It's a plasma on a stand, and if it falls and hits her head... Well, let's just say she'd be eating mushy food for life and I'd be changing her adult diapers until I die! I smacked her bottom harder this time, but she laughed at me again. Well, that's it! So the rest of the afternoon was spent standing at the gate or near the gate, telling her no and putting her back. I have got to get her potty-trained so these spankings actually hurt! Spanking her with a diaper on is like hitting King Kong in the head with a feather.

I couldn't believe that my entire day off was spent corraling her (corral, another good analogy - she was like an unbroken stallion, bucking 'authority') into one place or another or away from one place or another. By the time her dad got home, I was exhausted. And I suddenly knew exactly what her Nonna does all day when she has her.

See, their grandma keeps them often, but the youngest always wears her out and gets picked up before bed. I know why too: her poor Nonna chases her constantly for 10 plus hours, and by the time we get her home, they're both (Grandma and Grandchild) just worn the fuck out. I tell her and tell her, gates are a Godsend, but she was raised in an earlier time (I guess when Parents were Parents and spanked their children like it was a religion, and we, I mean they, minded and did what what they're told at Grandma's house.) After coming home, my youngest usually takes two steps into her room and then falls to the ground, sleeping where she lands. And no, I don't move her. I let sleeping babies lie, if you know what I mean. And I bet Nonna does something similar at her house after we leave.

I'd like to say we're now going to civilize her and get her teach her how to act when she's been "freed" instead of allowing her to run willy-nilly wherever in the fuck she wants to go, screaming and throwing tantrums at will, but I'm not that adult, because I want her out of my shit! I'm shopping for new (taller, better, un-climb-able) gates next week. In the meantime, I asked Nonna what she does when the baby throws a fit. She told me she sits her in the highchair and gives her a snack, or an activity to do, or a popsicle.

Now wait just a fucking minute: she throws a fit and you give her something FUN to do? Ok, this rampaging animal just might not be my fault. But I do know how to fix it, by God! And it starts with "potty-training" and ends with screaming (hers, not mine!)