I was tired last night. Or so I thought.
I crawled into bed, plopped my head on my horizontal pillow, wrapped my arms and legs around my vertical pillow, and snuggled under my fluffy down comforter. It was time to catch some zzzzz’s.
PING! My heavy eyes unexpectedly popped open.
Wait! What was going on? This was not happening. Not tonight. I needed to sleep. I wanted to start Monday off rested, not tired. Then Craig started to snore.
Annoyed, I flung back my blanket and headed straight for the Melatonin. I popped a pill, returned to bed and fell asleep with ease – well aware that it was more of a placebo affect than anything, but I’m cool with that.
Fast forward a few hours…
I awakened with a start. Scratch that. That’s not nearly descriptive enough.
I was viciously jolted from my peaceful slumber by the strange and horrifying intruder that loomed above me. Her eyes were wide with patient wonder. She hovered in eerie silence, just waiting for me to wake so I would know the fear of my impending – more than likely violent – doom. It was obvious this evil monster would take great pleasure watching the life drain from my terror-filled eyes.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” I shrieked loud enough to scare myself all over again.
“What’s wrong?!” I heard Craig awake with a start. He was now panicked by the murderer in our room too.
His voice nudged my logic. Wait. I started to recognize the evil villain, but still did not feel safe.
“Taylor!” I shouted at my daughter. “What do you want?!!!!” Now I was scared and angry.
“I’m. Not. Taylor.” Her voice echoed with disgust.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” I screamed again. Who WAS this psycho maniac?!!! And why did she want to kill me?!!
“Kristin!” I heard Craig say. “It’s Sydney!”
My heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. Finally I woke enough to process this information. This person called Sydney – whom I mistook for a girl named Taylor – did not want to slice me into a million little pieces. Nor did she want to be mistaken for a girl named Taylor.
You see, Taylor is Sydney’s identical twin sister. The only thing Sydney was guilty of was having a bad dream. She had come to me, her mommy, for comfort. I’m the one person who knows her best in the world. The person with whom she feels the safest. So when I didn’t recognize her, my 9 year-old was scared and irritated.
“Oh Sweetie! I’m sorry! Climb in,” I instructed as I threw back the covers. She nestled her head underneath my chin. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tightly. “You almost gave Mommy a heart attack, Syd! You scared me so much I pooped my pants!” I giggled, trying to make her feel better. She didn’t respond the way I had hoped, but I couldn’t blame her. I’m sure her feelings were very hurt.
This morning on the way to school, I was still feeling guilty for the sleep-induced mishap. I felt the need to address it light-heartedly to make sure Sydney wasn’t still offended.
“Hey Syd! Tell Gabe and Taylor how crazy Mommy was last night,” I encouraged her. I was anxious to hear her side of the story.
“I had a bad dream. So I went down to tell Mommy. When I woke her up, she almost had a heart attack. Mommy was so scared she pooped in her pants!” Sydney belly-laughed as she retold the story.
“You did?!” Taylor and Gabe asked in shocked unison.
“Not really” I clarified. “It was just an expression I used to let Syd know I wasn’t mad at her.”
“OHHHH!” Sydney exclaimed. “I was wondering why it didn’t smell!”
Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.
All was forgiven.