Tuesday, 12 June 2012

I Don't Like Scary Movies

According to the rocking and rolling in my belly, the growing belly, and all of those ultrasound pictures hanging on the fridge, all signs indicate that Dan and I are having a baby in about, oh, three months. However, there's a part of me that feels like Joey from Blossom whenever I contemplate this mind-blowing idea.


Totally WHOA!


Basically, I often question if I'm mature enough to be having a baby. I suspect I'm not, but isn't there some great adage about growing up with your children? Or maybe it's watching them grow old? Yeah, based on all the Teen Mom I've been watching (for research! Just for research! What not to do, and all that...) I don't think you are supposed to 'grow-up' with your kids.

But in a lot of ways, I feel like I am going to be a major kid again when Little Baby hits the scene: Dan and I can hit the playgrounds without looking like a couple of creeps; we'll have a yard one day and get to build an awesome treehouse; when LB is old enough to help in the kitchen I will have a genuine excuse for the mess: "It's [LB's] fault."; we get to go to toy stores and buy rad stuff!

Those are all ways I'm looking forward to regressing back into childhood.

However, in some ways I am presently still a child with an overactive imagination, and it makes me nervous that soon I will be responsible for caring for one. The best example I can offer is where scary movies are concerned.

I cannot handle them.

Can. Not. Deal.


Our Saturday night was going swimmingly: I was having my usual long soak in the tub, Dan was surprised by a chat with his best bud, and we were anticipating a night cozied up on the couch watching a movie. However, a minor wrench was thrown into our plans when the Saturday night movie turned out to be one about an exorcism.

"Do you want to watch it?" Dan asked, knowingly.

"Umm....well.....I....guess....umm....sure," I answered, with a great deal of assured conviction. I am, after all, a grown-up! We can handle these things!


Couldn't handle it.

We were about an hour into the movie, and I'd spent most of that hour with my face covered asking, "Is that part over?! IS IT OVER?" 

It just kept getting worse and worse and more and more freaky, so I finally cried-out in distress, "I can't watch this anymore! I have to go to bed!"

"Okay," Dan said as he gave me a kiss, "Have a good sleep."

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to bed alone after watching that. You're coming too."

"Wha..." He trailed off, but he couldn't fight it. My inability to deal with scary movies is not news around here. So he recorded the rest and off we went to bed.


Dan has this annoying ability to fall asleep within 2.3 seconds of his head hitting the pillow, and in no time he was snoring away in dream land. I however was huddled up against him, tugging on his arm and pulling it over my shoulders like a security blanket, scared out of my mind about that ridiculous movie.

The hours ticked by, and eventually I had to go to the bathroom. At the exact moment I decided to go to the bathroom Cosmo, who always sleeps next to me, started to dream and his little legs started 'dream running' as his tail twitched madly.

I was convinced he was possessed.

Then I looked at the clock and saw it was 2:53 a.m. and according to this movie, 3 a.m. is the witching hour.


So I behaved like a grown-up and woke Dan up, "I have to go to the bathroom! Wake-up! Wake-up!"

Cosmo was still dream running beside me, Dan was grunting and groaning in confusion and I...COULD HEAR SOMEONE WALKING UP THE STAIRWAY OF OUR BUILDING.

AT 3 A.M.

It was all too much!

Too much!

If I wasn't such a grown-up, I probably would have wet the bed in terror.


How am I supposed to be the adult who comforts LB from a bad dream when I clearly cannot comfort myself? I'm going to be all, "Oh kid, you don't even know! Have I ever told you about this one night after I watched a movie on exorcism and then woke your dad up and made him wait for me while I got up to go to the bathroom?"

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