The Mom Sandwich

         We live in a big-wild-world filled with change and trees and beasties that go bump in the night.

          The first several times I attempted the parenting job I failed and failed and failed. I was a highly proficient zygote-killer. Every month I despised going to pee because it would inevitably lead to my pink slip. This lasted for over six years and it should have told me something about this career choice. Even when boy-girl twins arrived, my job security wasn't guaranteed, any random, hideous event could enter and destroy every-thing. I became obsessed with safety.

          No wack jobs as neighbors.

          Check.

          No rat poison within reach.

          Check.

          Climbing trees are forbidden.

          Check.

          This final decree lasted until the week after 9/11. Suddenly and irreparably I discovered it impossible to keep any-one safe from any-thing. Despondent I couldn't control what is not controllable, the twins were released from ground prison. They whooped and hollered and headed for trees. On crutches after a knee surgery, I hid my eyes and prayed. 

          
          Not really. Both kids had been short for their age and the trees in our yard were minus the required low limbs, I’d had my husband take care of that before lifting the gate to freedom...You can’t take the controlling bitch out all at once…it takes several washings.

          On that auspicious day, a half-hour of cageless twins finished with screams and pounding footsteps entering the kitchen.

          “MommyMommyMommmmmmmmmy...Comeherehe’sstuckinthetree!”

          Throwing the crutches aside, I hobble-ran to face the terrible-awful-horrible sight. The boy hung upside-down, tethered by one over-sized boot in the V of a crab apple tree. His back to the trunk, he was suspended about three feet off the ground.

          This rescue would take two good legs and the strength of a bodybuilder. I had neither, thus I made do. Stumbling forward I grasped his waist to squash him against the tree with my body while yelling for my daughter to call Dad at work. Surely I could smoosh him in place the two hours it would take my husband to arrive.

          I wasn't given the opportunity to test my abilities as a Mom-Sandwich, because when my arms looped around him, his foot slid out of the boot. In slow-motion we fell backward, his feet wrapped around my throat and his face buried in my crotch. Windless and in shock, I lay still to assess the damage. A muffled voice spoke from my nether regions.

          “OhmommyIsogladyourescuedmeIdidn’tknowhowIwouldgetdown.”

          My daughter stood above me with the wise eyes of an old woman. She knew I hadn't saved any-one, just got damn lucky.

     Lesson #1:  It is impossible to assure nothing bad will ever happen.

          Parenting is a wonderfully hideous endeavor best served when it is remembered that random shit happens…all the time. The twins are now 24 and learning for themselves that nothing can protect any-one from any-thing.

          We live in a big-wild-world filled with change and trees and beasties that go bump in the night. Let's wake up and climb the mayhem to see the sky.