Thanking God

My mantra with Demon Baby is "Remember what's important."

Crayon on the walls. It's just a wall. He's little once. Remember what's important.

Deciding he's Greek and throwing plates to the bottom of the steps while screaming "Oopah!" (for the record, the kid is not Greek, he's Mexican-American). Remember what's important.

Five minutes after the housekeeper leaves on Tuesdays (while saying Amen she hasn't quit yet), ripping a newspaper into confetti and showering it all over the living room. Remember what's important.

Yesterday. Spits. Spits on his older sister's appointment book. For no reason but to be fresh. He gets put into time-out. (I drag his fresh little butt upstairs and he gets put in his crib, shades drawn in the room, door shut, and has to stay there and "think about" his naughtiness.)

He climbs out and opens the door. I put him back.

I come downstairs. I am sitting here. Working. He is crying. I can hear him getting MAD. He is screaming.

Then, me, my oldest son, and my mom look out the window of my office, and we see . . . OBJECTS . . . FALLING . . . FROM SECOND-STORY WINDOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I race upstairs, because at that moment, I literally didn't know if HE had decided to fling himself out the second-story window. I never leave the windows open precisely for that reason. But I had CRACKED the windows in the nice weather. Luckily, we have window locks, so even if I open the windows, I set them for a four-inch height only. He had then used his fingertips to open the screen, and was sliding everything and anything that could fit through a four-inch height out the windows. Stuffed animals. Boxes of art supplies. Games.

But not himself.

Remember what's important.

I literally thought I was going up to find my baby had thrown himself out a window, that I had somehow forgotten the window locks. I live in a state of hyper-vigilence with him anyway, but a tired mom can make a mistake, and I know that. But no. Window locks on. I had a mess to clean up in the yard. But he was there. Upstairs. Delighting in throwing things down "so the dogs could play with them" (our dogs are outside on nice days--we have a fenced yard).

I hugged him. Then all the windows got totally shut. Then he got another time-out.

But he was safe.

Remember what's important.

And for the record, yes, I think I had a minor heart attack yesterday.

And I have a sneaking suspicion with Demon Baby it won't be my last.

Remember what's important.