Black Friday-Dark Visions

Normally, I would have been up since 2am and currently wrapping the $300+ worth of presents I bought at Wal-Mart today and patting myself on the back for getting 90% of my shopping done, only to realize a week later that this was not true, I had really only finished Lily's shopping, and now that I spent $300+ on her, everyone else was getting photo copied pictures of her in a dollar store frame for Christmas. Oops.

Luckily, I found a fantastic new store earlier this month, with actual worthwhile gifts to purchase, all under $10, all kinds of loved ones shopped for in one day for half of what I spent on the pink one alone last year. Yay me!

So, since I didn't have Black Friday to fixate on this year, my mind had a chance to drift back to its darker, less wholesome, consumer driven visions.

After dinner last night I left my husband over at my sisters to help eat left overs, and I, feeling sick and disappointed in my inability to eat seconds, took the pink one home to clean up and get ready for bed.

I took a shower while I let her wind down by playing some PBSKIDS.org (loving that website) and my mind started to wander.

I heard a noise, a faint, "boom" and my brain went through the last steps taken before entering in the shower. 1) Opened Door, 2) put keys down 3) placed child in front of computer 4) stripped naked and began to shower. Shit. Lock door behind me was NOT in the progression of things.

Recognizing this, I immediately began to run all potential scenarios through my brain.

With the "boom" from the front of the house, some large, be-cloaked monster with a snidely whiplash mustache and shiny black boots, would be sneaking into my house to ruffle through my unmentionables, wrestle me to my bloody doom in the shower, and then sell my daughter into white slavery, all because I forgot to lock the door and my husband wanted an extra turkey sandwich.

My mind has always been a dark and twisty place, but ever since the pink one came along, it more and more frequently goes to nether regions of the worlds potential danger zones. The minute I got pregnant i became obsessed with shows like Law and Order SVU, Secret Lives of Women, anything about serial killers or little children being hurt by bad people.

I would watch these shows and sob, and shake, and triple check the doors and windows, and rock my child close to me out of a desperate fear for her life, and then turn on the next episode of "Generic Cop Drama in which a child and her mother are murdered".

We have lived in places where my eminent death was much more likely, like the apartment directly across from the buss depot on the ground floor, where vagrants were often knocking on my sliding glass door asking for cigarettes.

This house, luckily, is a little less dangerous, not that it keeps me from envisioning the headlines the next day, something like "Mom Maimed Child Slain, Husband Regrets Second Sandwich"

I know other moms that do this, most of them are less vocal about their macabre obsession, but they too see every corner as a potential kill zone, every dark wooded area as a disenchanted forest full of rapists, so at least I know I'm not alone.

Obviously, I have not been the victim of a random act of violence yet, despite all my planning, my picking out of the missing persons photos, (not the ones from the bachelorette party please, maybe something from a few years ago, but not college...) but I can't stop thinking about it, and I can't stop wondering if I can let my kid live a normal life because I am so afraid of whats out there lurking in the shadows.

When I am not jumping naked, dripping wet from the shower, running to lock the front door and check my house frantically for various evil no-good nicks, I am obsessing over where she is, who she's with, if I can trust the people I trust, and how its going to get so much worse when she's older and actually starts to mind when I follow her around with a safety whistle and mace, (or are tazers the thing now a days?)

How do I let my little person grow up, meet new people, try new things, and experience her life safely, without tying her up and locking her in a closet to keep her safe?

As usual, I'm asking the questions without having an answer, and my typical parenting insecurities surround my posts this evening. Anyone that has successfully navigated the terrifying terrain that is modern parenthood should feel free to comment on ways to keep your children safe without bubble wrap, print kits and a lie detector.

I am sure of one thing, my morbid fascination with crime dramas has got to end if I ever plan to get sleep when Steve is out of town. (she types while turning on her third straight episode of Dexter, the serial killer that makes her feel safe)