On November 19th, 2009 my four children and I were on our way to the college to pick up my husband from school when we met true catastrophe for the first time.
It had been a bad day all around. We were supposed to have a Family Fun Night hosted by Bunny’s Head Start at the local bowling alley. Unfortunately, Bird had a very bad day at school, having a colossal meltdown over missing three minutes of recess, a meltdown that involved him almost hitting two teachers with his coat as he threw his tantrum, then narrowly missing hitting his own beloved teacher in the head with his locker door as she tried to talk him through it. Upon counseling with her and asking how I could follow through with consistent consequences at home, she told me she thought he ought to miss participating in the Family Fun night bowling activity. I agreed.
Conundrum. With no place to take him, and hell bent on making sure his bad choices at school didn’t make it so his punishment was leaked on my other children who wanted to participate I ended up having to take him to the bowling alley. Originally, we were going to sit in the car, but his constant seven year old pleas of “I just want to watch, please? I won’t play, I just want to watch, I promise I won’t throw a fit…” wore at me. I finally told him I would let him go in, watching only, no playing, no fits, etc.
I am a fucking idiot at times.
His mood sometimes sets my two year old daughters mood as well. I should say, the dynamic of both our moods does. I was trying to keep my cool when in all reality I wanted to choke his little neck shut. I was swinging between patience and fury, dangling on a hinge of sanity.
Then we stepped into the bowling alley. Lights, movement, overwhelming noise and yelling little children everywhere. As soon as we got to the floor and I spotted Bunny’s teacher’s aide I told her of the situation as fast as I could because I now had a two year old clinging to my thigh in terror and a seven year old bawling about how “It’s not FAIR the GIRLS get to bowl and I DON’T!”.
Bunny’s teacher’s aide is a saint and I will one day build her a shrine because she took not only Bunny, but Nunkee who was now totally unafraid and marauding through the place. Butterfly just went on her merry way and blended like she does. On of my old Head Start students, from back in my own teacher’s aide days was there as well and wanted to socialize with me. I love the boy to death, but while juggling Bird’s revolving meltdowns I was not at my social best.
Bird and I ended up outside at one point. Him screaming that I hated him, me telling him I hated how he acted but always loved him, even when he was behaving like an asshole (yes. I said that. To my seven year old son. Mother of the year anyone?). Him, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the cars, sobbing, me, wandering further out into the parking lot to quietly bawl while leaning on the Head Start bus.
Bird, saying in his loudest, most dramatic sobbing Tom-Hanks-as-Woody voice, “ Well I guess I’ll just sit outside here and play with this STUPID TOY I have in my pocket! *sob*” At which point he stands up, turns around and begins pounding his fists on the metal siding of the bowling alley, howling to the heavens ” This is gonna be SOOOOO Fun! *sob, bawl, cry*” at which point, me, ever the sensitive and compassionate Mom, start laughing like a jackal on crack. This of course prompts a scream of rage from my son as he begins trying to pelt down the sidewalk. Which prompts me then to use the Voice of God on him and tell him to stop. He does, and stands there sobbing at being laughed at.
“It’s NOT FUNNY!” he yells at me as I come up to him.
“I know you don’t feel happy right now, Bird, but it did sound funny, with you bangin’ on the wall like that.”
Bird leans into me and wails for a second or two.
“I love you Birdie. You know I do.”
“I know. I love you too.”
We stand there for a moment, gathering ourselves. Leaning on each other in mutual exhausted frustration. We wander around to the back of the building because he has to go pee and wild bikers could not drag me back through that chaotic hell to a bathroom with my boy at this time. Besides, we’re in small town Montana, no street lights, and I tell him his Grandpa, my father probably peed behind that bowling alley a time or two back in his beer drinking bowling days.
“Papa used to bowl here?”
“Yeah. Grammy too. they were on a bowling league for awhile together even. When I was little it was mostly my dad that went. He bowled on these same lanes.”
Bird doesn’t seem more than mildly interested and in fact finds the side double doors much more exciting in all their endless possibility.
“Maybe they load the bowling balls in here! When I grow up I am gonna have a bowling alley and we’ll bring a big truck in to load the balls through that door…” and my little Bird is his magpie self. I can tell he is ready to go back in…it is getting chilly, it’s November after all, though warmer than normal.
Back in to chaos. Bird helps with getting his sister’s their balls on the ball return platform and Nunkee almost gets her fingers smashed repeatedly messing with the balls though I take her from the platform time and again… and pull her back from running down the bowling lane, and listen to her go into toddler deaf mode, yelling “No!” to me with everything I say and trying to run off. The tension that had been loosely capped begins to overflow again and Nunkee goes from bad to temper tantrum shrieking worse and I find myself wishing that I drank. Heavily.
Bunny’s teacher, also a very dear friend of mine, promises me we are soon done. Thank God! I think. Then we can go get G.M and get home! I am tired, the dogs need fed, so do the cats. Wonder if the ferret is out of water. Hope Butterfly’s rat didn’t get out. Copper’s been in the car a long time. He peed though, before we left Mom’s. Need to get these guys food before we go into Kalispell, thought they were gonna have food here, guess not. Damn this place is loud! It’s giving me a headache, where the hell did that baby get to now? Wish I could help Butterfly on her throw, don’t know why Bunny doesn’t use the little kid’s cheater ramp….
Soon it was done and then we were boot and coat wrangling and trying to convince Nunkee it was time to go while my former Head Start boy reminds me I have yet to come by to see his new goats. I put a reminder in my phone for that Friday to come see them and get my kids out to the parking lot. The whole damned lot of them latch on to the one meager parking lot light pole and start climbing and hanging on it. It’s cute for about 5 seconds and then I am done and want them all to GET IN THE CAR NOW!
At which point, Nunkee, oh-so-very-two, begins to arch her back and scream like I am gutting her as I try to get her into her car seat. Now I have the equivalent of an octopus on PCP that I am trying to stuff into a five point harness child seat. After I get her arms in the straps I actually have to push her into a sitting position to get the crotch straps. I snug the chest piece as far up her chest as I can because she is in a mood to try and slip her child restraints as she has done on me in the past. She is still fighting and struggling with me, shrieking like a cat on fire in my ear. I am now speaking in angry hiss because my teeth are clenched so tight. I am furious. I hate this fucking night! I think. Family Fun night my ass! With these screaming little bastards it would have been more fun to stay home and gouge out my own goddamned eyes with a fucking spoon!
I want to hit her so bad. Then I hate myself for feeling that way. Spend a moment cursing my family for raising me in violence and anger. get in the car and try to catch a breath.
Down the road at the grocery store I tell them I will go in and get them some food, I know part of their problem is that it is 7:30 and they have yet to have dinner. We still have to drive 15 miles to the college to get Daddy before turning around and driving the 32 miles home. I tell Butterfly to stay in the car and the younger ones all start bawling when I tell them there is no way in hell they will be going into the store after the way things went down at the bowling alley. I know this isn’t fair to Bunny and Butterfly who weren’t absolute little shits, but I can’t take two in and leave the others. A large population of people would even be horrified that I left my kids alone in the car in the first place to go into the grocery store. In Denver Colorado I wouldn’t. But I live in Montana. In a small community. The odds of someone coming and kidnapping my four children is about as likely as a meteor falling on my house.
Besides, I pity the poor bastard who would even try such a suicidal stunt. My children would probably eat him.
Back in the car I hand Butterfly a bag. I know I was really stressing because I couldn’t think of what to feed them. All I could hear in my head were their little piping voices telling me “Ew! I don’t like that!” and “That’s gross!” and I wasn’t about to pay $10.99 for a bag of jerky. Butterfly looked in the bag at the crackers, oranges and yogurt. Then she pulled out the jar of pickles and gave me a confused look.
“What? You tell me you hate everything else lately. I know you like pickles.”
“Okay…” she said dubiously as put the jar back and got out the crackers.
I passed out yogurt and told them to drink it like cups. I needed to get to Kalispell. The clock read 7:37 and his class got out at 8. I felt we were making pretty good time. I had to yell at the dog once to “Get in back!” after he saw Nunkee, ever the source of Manna from Heaven had something tasty. She was screaming at him, ” NO COPPA MINE!”
We were on the way, for the first two miles they were quiet. I felt like I had that Bill the Cat look on my face. I was so frazzled. I hate crowds and noise unless they involve music. But the crashing bowling alley thunder…
I got on LaSalle and glanced at my speedometer. Fifty-five. I brought it up to sixty before I heard them. I don’t know if it was Bunny or Nunkee who started the screaming fight . I yelled at them to stop. I couldn’t turn around and mediate and neither one of them were screaming any words I could make out. I was so angry with them! Why couldn’t they just eat their fucking food and shut the fuck up? Why was every car ride lately like this? Everyone finding something to bitch or scream about? I felt like I was losing my mind. The shrieking escalated to earsplitting decibels.
“That’s IT!” I snarled.
I meant to do what I have done on occasion when their backseat bickering has pushed me to the point of wanting to beat them until their butts fall off. I was going to pull over to the side of the road. This would either make them all immediately be quiet and stop fighting or it would give me a chance to get the hell out of the car before I got to the point of screaming and not being able to stop.
I meant to pull over. I did not realize just how angry I was. Or how fast I was going.
I heard the brakes lock and the tires began to squeal.
I remember thinking, “Fuck! I could lose control of the car!”
I remember feeling like the rear end was swinging around.
I remember feeling the car swing around and seeing the airport fence go by in front of me.
I remember feeling…something, then it was all noise and I didn’t see anything. I felt my body slam hard into the doorframe. I felt broken glass against me cheek and worse, grass.
Jesus! We’re rolling! My kids! GOD HOLD THEM!
Tucking my shoulder to lean toward Butterfly and reaching out to grab her.
My babies, really screaming now.
My babies!
The shock of still, looking at the glassless sunroof and the grass. Try to move, neck hurts. Babies screaming, screaming…hurts, oh God, are they hurt?!
“Guys! It’s ok. is anyone hurt? ” screams and crying answer me. I look at Butterfly. I am hanging from my seatbelt, the only thing holding me up. I see no blood on her but for a few cuts on her scalp, she is crying, scared. Lying trapped between the seat and crumpled roof, head on the visor. She’s lying on her right side, facing me.
“Mom, what happened? Mom, my head hurts!”
My babies are screaming and I can see cars stopping through the broken sunroof. I can’t move to turn around to see or help them.
The Voice is there.
They will all live. You all will live. The small ones are fine.
“Mom, my head hurts. What happened?”
My Butterfly! My babies. My anger.
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