Morteus Cricketicus Maximus

I screamed like the slutty cheerleader getting her brains eaten in every scary movie ever made. As I sit here typing, I am shaking and quaking, my tummy REALLY hurts and I have a headache. AND I LITERALLY PEED MY PANTS. Forget Mary Poppins. This is way way scarier! My house is INFESTED with the notorious Morteus Cricketicus Maximus. (MCM)  AKA: Killer Crickets or Camel Crickets. The lil F-ers shoot laser beams out of their cold, creepy-shiny black eyes and will eat flesh. They can fly and bend time. If you are within three feet of these crunchy creatures of death and destruction, they will begin to control your thoughts as well as your body. They will make you do strange things. Like pee your pants and throw up at the same time.

When I first spotted the terrifying tiny monster this evening, I immediately yelled at  my pup (a purebred West Virginia Brown Dog) ,Maybe, NOT to eat it. Only because at first glance the disgusting bug looked like a giant light brown hornet. But then, as I was swattng her away, IT JUMPED!!

When I say I screamed I mean oh my Celestia, I am sure some phone calls were made to 911 because my neighbors had to believe that I was being slaughtered in my own house. I had JUST put my daught3er Gillian to bed, and usually that precarious time after Lights Out is a delicate balance of quiet alone time and catching up on my tv shows on DVR.  But tonight,  nothing could hold back my screams of sheer terror. AND THEN! I LOST IT!I LOST THE MCM!!

  I could NOT find the damn thing on my beige and brown flecked berber shag carpet. Poor Mabes couldn't find it, either. I was gripping the broom ( luckily i had been trying to measure something just moments before. Ahhhh, The broom. Ye olde Appalachian Measurin' Stick!!) so tightly I thot the cheap metal handle would crumble. "FIND IT MAYBE! EAT THE *bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*ING THING!" Finally the sweet mutt and I spotted the miniscule minion of Satan.

 I pointed and commanded my trusty dog to commence to eatin! But I think the CMM must have flicked Maybe with its scorpion-like tail because the poor thing puffed, huffed and jumped back. Finally, after gathering her courage Mabes managed to keep her nose on it. But bless her lil puppy heart, she  couldn't bring herself to eat it. I cant blame her.

Finally, Maybe nuzzled the MCM out of commision. I ginglerly pressed the bottom of the broom on top of the micro-sized hellish beast and slowly added my full weight to the bristles. I was PRAYING that I would NOT feel a...a... a pop. *shudder*

I just checked it under the broom. It was still. So I poked it. AND IT *bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*ING MOVED!! Brian the hero hubs will be home in 45 minutes. I cannot go anywhere. I WILL not go back in there. I am being held hostage by a bug. I am a wuss. But so is my dog. ! I KNOW there is alien life on Earth! MORTEUS CRICKETICUS MAXIMUS ( totally made that up, btw)IS THE PROOF!

ps-im gonna have nightmares.

That Time Gillian Did Not Come Home From School

For weeks, Brian and I had been discussing the new changes that Gillian would have to face while making the rather quick transition from elementary to middle school. Now that she was going to be a big ol' Sixth Grader, we encouraged her to make some decisions on her own. She even picked out some clothes when we went shopping. Usually this child is so disenchanted by the whole shopping process that she  just holes up under some clothing racks somewhere till it’s time to leave the store. Our Aspie daughter was very “nervouscited” (nervous and excited) about going to Middle School. She also decided that THIS would be the year she rides the bus to and from school.

So we looked up the bus schedules, made sure she knew the bus number and that the drop off and pickup location was the same, just down the street from our house, at both the start of and the end of the day.

So when the first day of Sixth Grade dawned, Gilly jumped out of bed, ready and raring to go. So much so that we were 10 minutes early waiting for the bus! If you are familiar with her attendance situation last year, you will appreciate how monumental this earliness was!

From the moment she hopped on to that giant nightmare of a toxic-yellow hued hellbeast also known as The Schoolbus (news flash: I don’t like busses), I was eyeballing my phone all day, checking the ringer, the call logs, in case I had missed something in the 2.3 nanoseconds my eyes were away from the screen. But nothing. Her first day passed with out incident! Around 3pm, Brian and I brewed an afternoon pot of coffee and headed out the door to watch for Gillian’s bus.

Two heaving, sighing monsters crested the hill at the bus stop and spewed forth their contents onto the boiling hot asphalt. In other words, two busses came and went. Each dropped off a coupla kids and sped off. No Gilly.  But maybe there was another bus coming because neither one was #766-the morning bus number that had whisked her away from me and the safety of our busy lil street. Before we knew it, the time was 3:45pm. No other busses were coming. As Brian and I realized this, panic set in. I posted a question on Facebook about what time the busses usually ran in this town of ours (let’s face it, that is the QUICKEST way to contact a buncha moms and get an IMMEDIATE answer) and pretty much all of our local friends said that their kids were already off the busses and happily at home.

That did NOT make us feel better.

So I contacted PJ, a life-long friend of mine who happens to teach 7^th grade at the middle school. PJ said that because it was the first day, busses often run very late, but Gilly should have been home already. She also mentioned that the busses make different routes before and after school, so the morning bus, #766 that we had drilled in to Gillian's head,  would not be the bus to drop her off in the afternoon. Another bus would do that. Well, that would have been nice to know.

4:00pm. Terrible, chilling thoughts were swirling and twirling in my head and heart like maddening little pieces of panic and dread-shaped confetti. But the other part, a very small part, was trying to remain calm. I tried to think like Gillian. I am very plugged in to her screwy ill brain. I wondered if she freaked out when she didn’t see her bus (again we THOUGHT it was #766) and maybe she was still at the school, just NOT knowing what to do. As if reading my thoughts, PJ messaged me and said she was headed back to the school to look for my child AND she texted the principal letting him know that G didn’t make it home. Meanwhile, worried sick, Brian took off to search the neighborhood. I wanted to go with him, or run off and search on my own, to FIND MY BABY!!! But I stayed home in case G DID end up there somehow.

All the while, more and more friends of ours who had seen the Facebook post were contacting me to tell me they were in the area and looking for her as well (thanks, friends!).

Nothing. No one had seen my one and only oh-so-very-slightly special needs sweet baby girl since around 3:10-the time the bussers load up and leave- at school. Brian called and said he had no news; He was going to check at my parent’s house as a last resort. We knew there was no way Gillian would walk there because it‘s about a half a mile away, and she doesn’t know the way. Plus she is super lazy. She gets that from me.

So as Brian was stalling on the front porch of my parents house, trying to decide what to say to them about our missing child so as not to alarm them, PJ texted me and said G wasn’t at school.My child was literally NO WHERE. That was it. I was calling the police. As my fingers hovered over “911” Brian called. “She walked to your parent’s house.” He said quietly. I could tell by his tone that he was equally angry AND relieved. He found her backpack and jacket in their usual after school spot in the kitchen, but no one was home. He called my mom’s cell. Brian said when he heard Gillian’s sweet little voice answer my mom’s phone, he thought he was going to cry. Awwww. He’s such a good, sweet daddy.

My parents had taken Gillian and they were on their way to my mother’s Physical Therapy appointment.

Uuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmm.

　

WHAT?!??!

Apparently, MY MOTHER told G to call or text either me or Brian to let us know where she was. The child did neither. And rather than CONFIRM that Gillian had, in fact, contacted us, MY MOTHER just assumed that she did. Which she MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT. How could MY MOTHER, who worries about things that HAVE NOT AND WILL NOT EVER HAPPEN, HOW did she not FREAK the F out when my sweaty tired baby walked into her house?! FROM SCHOOL?! A HALF A MILE AWAY?! Sure ,I made that walk every day for 3 years in high school but that was the 90s. Back then, when kids disappeared it was from far away places and big, dirty cities. Drugs and bad guys weren’t lurking around each corner like these days. Even right here in Supersmalltown , WV.

Just after I had found out that Gillian was okay, another dear friend of mine, Erika knocked on my door to check on the situation. Turns out, she had been near my neighborhood when she had gotten a call from PJ about Gilly being missing. After filling her in on the current situation, Erika contacted PJ to let her know she was free to end the search. I did the same on Facebook, thanking everyone who had been encouraging and helpful.

I then had Brian come pick me up and I stormed into that PT office like a straight up bad ass bitch. When I quite literally almost knocked down some cripped up old lady, I didn’t stop. I did not apologize. I was a woman possessed in a rage of worry and good-old fashioned PISSED OFF-ness. I spotted G and my dad lounging on some medical-looking cushy slab-thingy and I pointed at G when we locked eyes:. “You. Come here. Now.” My Daddy gave me the big puppy eyes and said “Oh no, is she in trouble?’

I GLARED at him. “Yeah, You ALL are.”

“Awwwww, but-“

“No. Stop. G, we are leaving. Let’s go.” I turned and left the office, leaving Brian to collect Gilly. Once outside I made her give me a hug and she said she just got confused at school and SAID she was a walker. “HOW did you know how to GET to Mammy’s?!” I asked.

“I know my way around!” she said HILARIOUSLY. With that, I LOSt it and cracked up. It felt good to laugh. We also talked about why she got confused and that she needs to ask for help in those situations.

Turns out that MY MOTHER had spent the previous evening TALKING G OUT OF RIDING THE BUS. Because MY MOTHER wanted the child home with her after school, like she always had been after elementary. It should be noted that the elementary school is practically right across the street from my parents’ house. NOT a half-mile away.

Yes, Brian and I confirmed with Gilly that she was riding the bus. We had for weeks before school started. We did that evening before bed and that morning at the bus stop. But I think when she had to recall the info, she struggled with wanting riding the bus and going to Mammy's house like she always had, that was her ROUTINE after all,  and then she made a quick decision and went with it.

She was very proud of herself for walking to my parent’s house. Mmmmm-hmmmm.

As we pulled into our drive, my meddling mother called me. Nope. Not ready yet. So I ignored it. Then she sent me a text. Still not ready. Ten minutes later she pulled in the drive. I sent Brian out to talk to her. I couldn't do it. I would say waayyyy too much bad stuff. So I stayed in the house chugging alarming amounts of vodka and lemonade.

I still haven't talked to MY MOTHER today, but I did draw a really ugly pink star on my arm and texted my mother that I got a tattoo. The Drema HATES tattoos. She IMMEDIATELY responded all angry and bossy. So then I drew a really awful blob of a black cat. And said I actually got another one. My mommy threatened me so then I HAD TO draw a red heart on my arm and wrote “mom” in it, texting her the pic of it and saying THAT new tatto was my fave. Obvy.

I did that because I want her to be angry and also want her know I am messing with her. Because that’s how I was raised. I learned passive-aggressive revenge, manipulations, and controlling possessiveness from THE BEST.

I am glad my Gillian is safe and sound.  This morning, she wrote the bus number, and the dismissal time on her arm. At school, she had lots of people looking out for her. They even showed her EXACTLY where the bus would be parked in the afternoons at dismissal.

I received so very many texts and messages saying that people actually saw her GET ON that bus. I got a message that her kindergarten teacher happened to be passing by and saw Gillian GET OFF the bus on our street- her kids are in daycare somewhere off of our street. And then Brian sent me a picture of her sweet lil face at home and captioned it “Proof of life.” I actually laughed out loud at that one. I’m including screen shots of the texted conversation about the fake tattoos I had with my mother. So that you can see what I am dealing with here.

It has often been said that it takes a village to raise a child. Well, apparently, it is going to take that and an Elementary School, A middle school, a psychiatric hospital, a fleet of busses and ALL of y’all on Facebook to raise mine!

Thank you all, I love you sooo much and after yesterday, I think y’all might love me, too! <3