48 Hours of Pure Mayhem

My smiling 6-year-old niece wearing a paper mask of a knight's helmet

As a trauma nurse, my bestie has seen many shocking and horrifying things. She enjoys telling me about things people have stuck up their butts, things people have eaten, like scissors (not for the first time either) and other random gross things that make me dry heave.

But she’s used to it. She doesn’t even flinch.

The same can be said about parents and their children. Parents have a different sense of ‘normal’. They come to expect the bizarre. The ‘gross’ becomes the ‘endearing’.

Heartfelt props go out to parents everywhere  — that you have not only survived, but that you are functioning human beings, and not hunkered down in bomb shelters, fearing for your lives.

• • •

We borrow my niece from time to time. To date it’s only been for short stints. A solo mission with my nephew hasn’t been attempted yet. 

This weekend was our first 48-hour, war-torn, battle-scarred weekend with the both of them.

We almost didn’t survive.

• • •

My niece is a Human Bermuda Triangle

“May I colour?” she asks. 

“Sure,” I say and put her in the middle of the room with a giant piece of paper. 

She happily starts to draw. 

My 6-year-old niece laying on the floor drawing
So cute, right? This is to distract you from the 9 markers on the floor.

She hasn’t moved, and after some time she says, “Ok, I’m done.”

Me: Perfect, now let’s put away the markers.
Human Bermuda Triangle: Ok, I have seven.
Me: Where are the rest of them?
HBT: I dunno.
Me: Are they under the couch?
HBT: Nope.
Me: Are they under the table?
HBT: Nope.

<repeat question sequence with all conceivable locations, even though she moved literally nowhere>

Me: Well where did they go?
HBT: <blank stare>

I look over at my brother incredulously. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “Well, that’s what happens when you have kids.”

• • •

This scenario happens at least 4 more times over the weekend. 20% of my home has already disappeared.

Make sure to childproof your home

I always assumed childproofing the home was meant to protect the children.

I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

My nephew is a weapon of mass destruction. 

It is every statue, glass, picture frame, TV remote, and plate for themselves. 

It’s ‘Tasmanian Devil goes to a Greek wedding.’ He runs at top speed, grabbing things and throwing them on the floor. For the first hour after they arrived, everything was falling, bouncing, rolling, crashing, or being thrown. 

I am still suffering from PTSD.

My nephew with his bottle. Refueling before his next rampage
The calm after the storm - dormant and refueling

Children would make excellent spies 

They have minds like steel traps. 

They remember when you said they could have a cookie, when you said they would get a surprise, how many things they are allowed to get at the dollar store. Everything. 

They do, however, conveniently forget where they put their half-eaten sandwich (found later, face down, squished into the floor), where their mittens are, and generally anything of real importance.

• • •

They are like bloodhounds and find everything — even when they don’t know what they’re looking for. They find the candy, the random gifts that are supposed to be distributed over time, and my personal favourite — the naughty drawer.

Out of nowhere, my niece asks me, “What’s this Auntie Michelle?” holding an object that NO 6-year-old should have. I nearly choke — half from laughter, half from shitting myself.

“It’s…. umm… an elastic,” I finally blurt out.
“It doesn’t look like an elastic”
“IT’S AN ELASTIC!!” I say, taking it from her and making a mental note to put a lock on the drawer.

• • •

“FaceTime” with my Nephew

My nephew thinks his mouth is the size of a bucket. However, no food actually goes in his mouth. 

He makes a valiant effort, but the food just sort of does this migration thing, across his face, onto the cheeks, and occasionally makes it into his hair. I know what he’s eaten based on the food handprint on the couch.

My 2-year-old nephew with an enormous amount of chocolate on his hands and all over his face.
Behold my nephew’s chocolate jazz hands

• • •

Time with children is a warped time-space continuum 

At any given time, you are running around, breaking up fights, soothing bumped heads, cleaning random materials off the floor, answering questions, cleaning, taking pictures, and rounding them up like a Border Collie. 

Everything moves at warp speed until, 

you need them to do something or go somewhere.

Then time stops.

Let’s take getting dressed as an example:

Put shirt on child A. 
Run after naked child B. 
Tell child A to put on pants. 
Catch child B, see that child A has forgotten about pants and is drawing.
Remind child A about pants. 
Child B breaks free and it’s ‘naked time’! 
Child A and Child B chase each other around the house. 
<TV interlude to calm down>
Child A now has pants on and has moved on to socks. 
Child B is still running and is in danger of losing his diaper. 
Child A wants a cookie. 
Give cookie, capture Child B, attempt to clothe. 
Child A has finished cookie, but lost socks. 
Child B begins search for socks…

• • •

On the upside, children make for cheap slave labour. We showed my niece how much ‘fun’ it is to clear the snow off the car. 

My niece cleaning snow off the car
Guess who never has to go outside again to clean off the car?

• • •

I LOVE my niece and nephew, but can’t comprehend how my brother and his wife do it. This was like 48 hours of High-Intensity Interval Training. 

I thought Time Outs were for the kids. Screw that. 

Auntie Michelle needs a nap.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *