At 1 in the morning, I awake to my daughter screaming for “mommy.” I turn to my husband and ask in sleepdrunken stupor, “which kid is that?”

He says, “It doesn’t matter, just go.”

I find her wide-eyed in bed. She says, “something pulled my arm.”

I said, “Like your arm got stuck on something?”

She says, “No, something grabbed my arm and pulled me.”

She says she’s too scared to sleep in her bed because it might grab her and pull her again.

A normal mommy would react in the following possible ways:

1) “Honey, you must’ve just had a bad dream. Nothing grabbed your arm.” (and then probably sing “Hush Little Baby”)

2) “Baby, your pajamas are just too tight.” (She insists on wearing flannel Minnie Mouse pajamas in Florida in March that are a size 24 months… and she’s 3)

minnie pajamas

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am not a normal mommy. I immediately feel a shiver of chills and start imaging evil spirits grabbing my daughter by her elbow to pull her away.

vintage ghost

It would explain why she always seems possessed. In my drowsy state, I am unable to process what she has told me and probably look as creeped out as she is.

So, I take her into our bed with her pillow, bunny and blanket.

Within 2 minutes she is kicking me repeatedly.

She says the blanket is making her itch.

Then she says she needs water.

Then she says she spilled the water.

Then she says there is something in her eye. Specifically something black. I think that is what we call “night” or “darkness.”

My husband shouts that she needs to stop talking and she starts to cry harder about the imaginary thing in her eye.

Alma and I relocate to the couch where she yells at me that my legs are too long.

Finally I take her back to bed where she shrieks like she’s being assaulted.

Eventually, her wails are intermittently interrupted with mumbles of “I have to potty” “I have to potty.”

So, we attend to that business.

I finally get her to go back to sleep in her room with her ghost.

ghost lady

The it takes me another hour to fall back asleep.

At this point, we’re getting about as much sleep as a typical parent of a 3 month old. Everybody expects that mom to be exhausted and cranky.

So, do I get a pass? Can I drool on my desk and tell someone to F-off and blame it on my shitty night of sleep?

Maybe tonight will be better. Unless the grabby banshee goes for my son.


In which case, we’re gonna go to that exorcist I just heard about in Lakeland.