It’s amazing that Shea is still alive.
I was living in my apartment and had the girls only half the time. I was battling with an unnamed depression and a feeling of doom. Later I find out that it was postpartum depression and anxiety attacks. This is why I am amazed that child is still around after what she did to me.
She was about 3 years old when I had them at my tiny apartment for the weekend. I remember it was a Sunday and I would be sitting on my couch watching football and doing laundry. The girls would be playing with all the toys they had packed from Dad’s house.
I was sitting on the computer checking my email when I heard Kara say, “Ooooohhh Sheaaaaaaa. Mom’s going to be SOOO mad!”
I got up from my desk/dinnertable, which was a green plastic outside patio set to find Shea had found a blue Sharpie pen and had taken it to my white leather couch. Now don’t go thinking it was a high priced couch. It wasn’t. I got it from the neighbor who put it out for charity to take and I cleaned it all up and was happy to have something to plant my ass on in MY apartment. It was MY couch. MINE, not OURS…but MINE. I loved that couch that now looked like a large Etch a Sketch.
She knew she was in trouble because she booked it for the bedroom while I took every cleaning agent I had to see if I could salvage my couch. Note: Baby wipes work on white leather to get blue Sharpie out. kind of.
I decided my best bet was to throw a blanket over the mess and try not to seriously freak out and think my life was coming to an end because of this. I resumed checking my email.
“SHEA!” I hear Kara yell again.
“WHAT NOW? I get up to find Shea has relocated the blue Sharpie and is drawing INSIDE THE TOILET!” I pick her up, take the blue Sharpie out of her hand, open the sliding glass door and chuck it out into the parking lot.
“Guess who is going to take a nap?” I ask her and she puts her head on my shoulder like an angel. “UGH!” I can’t be mad when she does this. I put her in her play pen and inform Kara that I am going to take a shower and to watch her sisters.
FIVE MINUTES. I didn’t even shave my legs! I get out and Shea is standing in the living room pulling the blanket off couch.
“Kara! Why did you get Shea out of her playpen?” I ask my then 8 year old that is playing Sega on the floor with her other sister.
“I didn’t.” she never even looks up.
I go into the bedroom and there it is. A PERFECT ROUND CIRCLE cut out of the mesh side. I’m standing there like Chandler from Friends for a whole minute looking at the hole, looking at Kara, looking at Shea and mumbling and pointing.
“WHOA. Wait a second here. KARA put down the Sega and look at me.” She turns around and sees Shea sitting behind her.
“How did she get out of her play pen?” She asks.
“THERE IS A HOLE CUT INTO THE SIDE.” I try not to yell.
She goes in and looks at the hole and looks at me instantly, “I swear I didn’t do it!”
We turn around and see Shea and Alyx standing in the doorway.
“Who did this?” I can’t believe I am asking a 3 and 4 year old who cut a PERFECTLY round hole into a side of a meshsided play pen.
Shea pulls from her back a pair of scissors I didn’t even know I had.
“HOLY SHIT!” I take the scissors away from her and thank GOD and everyone else that she didn’t kill herself with them.
“How did you get these?” I don’t know why I asked her, she couldn’t even talk and the only person that could communicate with her was Alyx.
Alyx. The angel. The child that does no wrong…BURSTS into tears and shamefully admits that Shea TOLD her to get her some sissors so she could get out. Shea MADE HER.
“You cut that hole?” I ask Alyx.
“No, Shea did.” I’m still baffled by this, but i’m past the point of being able to deal with it.
I turn the part with the hole towards the wall and push it up close so she can’t get through it and I put Shea back in her playpen where she instantly goes looking for her escape route.
“Alyx you tell your sister that she better stay in there or I am going to be SO mad!”
I take off my robe and put on a pair of shorts and tank top and resume checking my mail.
“SHEA!” Kara yells again.
THAT IS IT…how much trouble could she have gotten into while in her play pen? She’s not in her playpen. She’s standing in the living room smiling like a loon with her fingers in her mouth.
I stand up and the green plastic chair is stuck to my ass. I sit back down and try to stand up again. The green plastic chair comes with me. I push the arms of the chair down. Nope, it’s not coming off. I sit back down and PULL myself up and hear the sound of the green plastic tearing from the seat of the chair. I touch the back of my favorite shorts and there is now a part of my chair STUCK to my shorts along with some very sticky substance that instantly hardens on my fingers.
“Kara. Did you put superglue on my chair?” She would seem like the logical person to ask.
I look at the angel child staring up at me. “Alyx?” I almost feel like I am betraying her by asking her.
“MOM!? no!” I apologize and look at Shea.
“Bay?” She shakes her head no.
I realize that a stunt like this can’t be pulled off without some trace of evidence. I turn around see that the superglue is on the bookshelf where I left it and it’s stuck to it because the lid wasn’t put back on.
“Show me your hands.”
Kara puts her hands in front of her. Nothing.
Alyx puts her hands in front of her. Nothing.
Shea looks at them and puts her hands out and I see that her forefinger and thumb are stuck together and all that cute hand chewing was her trying to gnaw through the glue to free her fingers.
“Pack it up kids, you’re going to your father’s house.”
I kept the shorts. They are in Shea’s baby box of stuff. I hope she has 3 little girls JUST like her when she’s all grown up. The curse has been set into motion.