I never thought this would happen to me. To my family. I should have been more vigilant. But you don't see it coming. You hear stories about it happening, but you never think it will happen to you. Surely, not without any warning signs. Maybe there were some. But I didn't notice any.
Everything started off okay. Dan worked the evening shift. I fed the children crap food. I chose crap on purpose. The girls eat crap. Happily. Nothing frustrates me more than preparing healthy food and having to throw it out. Or more accurately, having to pick it off the floor and then throwing it out. I save healthy for Dan.
Anyway, I fed the children and then rushed them upstairs for a bath. A bubble bath. Not the fancy Princess Bubbles 'N' Fun, I used Palmolive dish detergent. I told them to pretend that they were utensils and that they were in the dishwasher. They bought it (insert giggles here).
The bath went well. Afterwards, I drained the tub and rinsed the remaining bubbles off of the girls. They pretended that they were flowers growing, and I was the gardener who had to "water" them. Twice. It was the demand of a third time when it happened. I lost my everlovin' mind.
Here's what the children heard:
Get out of the bath, please. Get out of the bath. GET OUT OF THE BATH! Don't touch her. Where are you going? I have to dry your hair. No, I'm going to dry it, not God. Seriously! Why are you touching her? Just leave her alone. Sit up, please. I can't dry your hair when you are lying down. Who gave Sarah the toilet paper? Sarah! You can't wash toilet paper! Give it to me! Stop wiggling. I wish I could take your head off, dry your hair, and then put it back on. It would be soooo much easier. Stop crying, I'm not going to do that for real! Why are you still naked? Stop banging my head with the hairbrush. I mean it! Give me the hairbrush. Sarah! Stop hitting your sister! Sorry, Kate, I have little to no control over her. Bethie? Where did she go? Every night you have a bath, and every night you get your hair dried. Why do you seem so confused by the procedure? DON'T TOUCH HER. I don't care whose towel it is, use it.No, you can't wear Sarah's PJs. Because they're too small. Bad luck, you grew. Fine, wear your PJs backwards. I don't care. Why are you crying? Wee Willie Winkie is gonna get you! Run! Run! Run! GOODNIGHT.
It was then that I realised that it had happened. I have become a lunatic. Just like Mum. I always thought there was something wrong with her. Turns out there was, she had three children! The demise of my own mental health is not because of one bad night. It wasn't even that bad. It is a result of the repeated batterings that my sanity has had to endure.
One day, I tell you the rest of the story. Here's a little tease:
No talking! I've already said "goodnight", I'm not coming up again! I mean it! No, you can't have a sandwich. Well then, close your eyes and dream about one. You'll feel better.