Destroyed By Love

by Cookie

So Destroyer had a music concert last weekend.  Super exciting, right?  Doll her up, take her out, video the performance.  Every parent’s dream.

Yeah.  Ok. Remember this is the Destroyer we’re talking about here.  Do you know why I call her that?  Not because I am a perpetrator of hate towards children as some bitch declared me on an earlier post.  I call her Destroyer because while she can destroy a room in under 60 seconds, she does it while destroying your heart and your will to be angry.  She finds a way to make you love her while she’s being a total asshole.

And sometimes she is, you know.  An asshole that is.  A non-communicative, screeching litle asshole.

So on Sunday she woke absolutely delightful.  We stayed in our pj’s all morning because we didn’t want to get our concert attire all crusty with peanut butter and kill some poor allergic babe.  We’re considerate like that. We had a great morning, ate lunch, got cleaned up and dressed.

The tricky thing about these concerts is that I am also a teacher in the program.  Which means that I have to be onstage with my little one for the baby class, and then switch gears to be on stage to lead my students.  Which means if Husband is working, I need to bring a babysitter capable of controlling the Destroyer in a public place.  NO problem, I thought.  I’ll bring Grandma.

So I should have known that there was something odd in the air when two things happened on the way to the concert.  First, while stopped at a red light, we hear the familiar thumping of some kid blasting gangster rap in the car next to us.  Looking over, I realize the noise is coming from a bald 60 year old man in a station wagon.  Can I please get a what the fuck?  And two, Destroyer fell asleep in the car.  Right before we arrived.  Of course.

So we go inside and wait for everything to start.  While listening to the cellos perform, the baby class instructor informs me that the instruments were left behind.  Super.  Because everyone wants to watch us uselessly walk around in a circle and lamely sing Humpty Dumpty.  Not really a testament to what we do in class every week.  You’d actually be really amazed how babies and toddlers catch on to the routine and learn all the movements and songs.  Whatever, the show must go on I suppose.

So we spend the best part of 45 minutes waiting for our turn.  That is a long time to wait when you are not quite two, it’s hot as fuck in the building and Mommy is 1000 months pregnant.  We spent most of the time trying to prevent Destroyer from running up on the stage.

All in all she was in a pretty good mood.  Happily running around, discovering all the things.  Until it happened.

1.  I tried to contain It.

2. While trying to contain It, It’s head got bonked by a closing door.

3. After unsuccessful attempts at containment, It toddled down the hall where the beginner class was convening and tried to destroy all their instruments.

4. I didn’t let It destroy tiny violins.

5. I took her out of Grandma’s arms to go on stage.

At this point, we were in full out tantrum.  Oh the tears.  Oh the screams.  Oh my God why does the concert have to be during naptime?

6.  So I stupidly brought her on stage.

NO xylophone.  What do you mean there is no fucking xylophone, Mommy?  Then give me that fucking cello. Right. NOW!

7. Destroyer is screaming.  On the stage.  Louder than the rest of us can sing.  Clenching her little fists, hulk style, like something out of a horror movie.  Looking totally and completely adorable while she does it.

8. I try to pick her up. Fail.

9. I set her down.  Fail.

10. I want to die, but I laugh instead.  Because she is an absolutely terrifyingly adorable little asshole.

11.  The audience is pissing themselves.  Because she got to them too.  She destroyed their hearts too.

So I took her off the stage and give her back to Grandma.  Grandma she likes.   Thank God I brought Grandma.

And that is why I call her Destroyer.  Because she also destroyed my will to be anything but in love with her, even at that moment.  Even when I should have been hanging my head in shame as an educator and a parent.  Because I kind of loved every second of it.

And I love her.