Give me the howling cats, mommy!

Espen knew Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah before I told him said composer was gone.

We were riding home after his play group one day, just after Mr. Cohen's passing, when Espen began to hold forth.

"Hallelujahhhhhhhhh, Halleluuuuuuuujaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, Halleluuuuujah, Halleluuuuuuuuuuujah!"

I was feeling the loss of the great songster pretty keenly and promptly cued up several renditions so Espen could get a full appreciation for how gorgeous the song really is.

The first three covers were soulful, Jeff Buckley-esque variations, which Espen crooned along to, demanding more at the end of each version.

And then.

5 young ladies sat in a simple room with a guitar and some folding chairs. They were. Divas. Baby ones, just itching to let their star shine.

The song started without incident. Just a lovely solo, albeit with a few gratuitous trills and runs. Then came the chorus. It was like listening to an aural rendition of 5 Madonnas in Vogue. Espen and I were completely silent, trying to parse all the audio action coming at us like an atomic song.

Then back to a single voice making a play on Whitney Houston's virtuosity.

I looked back at Espen. He had a confused look on his face.

And then the chorus started again, but this time, the sequel was better than the original. In that the voices were even more decorative and thrilling.

But me, I'm a creature of habit when it comes to my Leonard Cohen and I favor the rawness over the roller coaster vocals. To me, I felt like I was listening to a concert of howling cats.

I pressed stop. Espen questioned me.

"Mama, why did you stop the Hallelujahs?"

"Because they sounded like howling cats."

"Oh."

For whatever reason, he didn't press the issue further, which I took as tacit agreement.

Several days later, we are loaded in the car and ready to launch when Espen has a request.

"Give me the cats, mommy."

"Um. What cats, honey? Mimi?"

"No, mommy! The CATS!!!"

He's saying it like I should be WELL aware of what he is driving at, but for the life of me I'm drawing a blank. Did I promise him a bunch of kittens in a moment of exhaustion? Is there a herd of cats somewhere in our house that I should know about? Nothing.

And then he starts ooohhhhing and ahhhhing and luuuuuuuuuuuuyaaaaaaaaaing...and it dawns.

"Do you want the girls singing Hallelujah?"

"YES! Give me the howling cats, mommy! I want to hear them!"

So this one's for you, howling cats. You're famous to Espen Camino. Long may you wail.

The Day I Almost Broke My Kid

It was 3:45 on a Wednesday. Espen and I had spent a lovely, connected day going to music class, having lunch at a cafe and then heading to the Westmoreland Nature Park. We'd been up early due to night potty training and the seemingly endless cycle of half-colds that Fall brings, but we were coping as gracefully as possible.

On the way back, I was overcome by a wave of exhaustion that made Snow White look positively hyper post apple. I could barely keep my eyes open as I staggered into the house and collapsed onto the couch.

Espen bounded over, book in hand.

"Read to me, mommy!" he squealed.

"Espen, mommy is so...tired...I need to close my eyes for 10 minutes and then I'll read to you."

Espen was unimpressed.

"Read to me NOW, mommy!" he demanded, bouncing near my head provocatively.

I have been around this block long enough to know that if I want a moment's peace, I better dig deep and find at least one story in me. So I struggled to sit up and kind of half slurred, half whispered the book to him.

"Go get some crackers and fruit leather and you can have a snack on your little table." I offered.

Usually this is like winning the lottery for Espen, but now that I was offering it, the golden ticket seemed suddenly suspect.

He got his snacks and ate exactly one bite before racing back to the couch and bouncing near my head again.

"Mommy, get up and play with me!!"

And oh, how I wanted to, but I could move nary a finger in either direction.

"Boo, can you just grab some books and toys and play with them inside, or out, for a couple minutes while mommy rests?"

I could feel myself growing desperate inside. Here I was asking for what I needed badly and knowing with each passing bounce, that I wasn't going to get it.

"NO! MOMMY PLAY WITH ME NOW!"

My voice raised along with the cortisol in my system. It's extremely hard for me to remain calm when someone is yelling at me when I have calmly asked for a very simple thing pertaining to my physical reality. And here was my sweet son, inches from my face, screaming that there was no way in hell he was going to give me a moment's rest.

That's when Crazy Kali Mommy took over. I leapt up from the couch stormed towards the spare room.

"Listen, Espen. I NEED to rest my body or I won't be able to be a good mommy for you so I'm going to give myself a time out to try and calm down because I am VERY UPSET RIGHT NOW."

I shut the door. Locked it. Lay down on the bed and pulled the duvet over my head. Yes, I'm 37.
Espen, also acting like a 3 year old, albeit a less verbose one, grabbed a toy and started hammering on the door.

I became unhinged. My brain was screaming, "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET MY NEEDS MET HERE!???!!?!? I AM GOING TO DESTROYYYYYYYYYY SOMETHING."

I flew to the door, unlocked it and grabbed Espen's wrist and marched him outside. He began to holler.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO OUTSIDE!"

"I DON'T CARE!" I said coolly, poison dripping from my voice. I set him on the edge of a table and walked inside.

"Mommy! GET ME DOWN!" he roared. I, however, knew he was capable of getting himself down and plus, just felt plain mean. Like, "Oh, you don't like that? Well that's how I feel too, you jerk."
Completely hijacked by the Rage Monster now, as you can see.

He hopped down off the table and grabbed a stick and started beating it against the sliding glass door. Great, now we were both completely insane and I was no where near controlling myself.

So I ran to the glass door and threw it open and grabbed the stick and threw it on the ground. Espen was all smiles.

I was full of "Goddamnits!"

So again, I ran to the front porch and desperately tried to pay attention to the mind numbing effect of Facebook on my phone.

Espen approached, this time, fully nude.

He walked right up to me and laid his penis on my leg.

This was the closest I came to be startled/amused out of my rage. I cracked a smile and Espen grew bold.

"What are you doing, Espen?" I asked, none too excited to hear the answer.

"I'm going to pee on you, mommy."

I pushed him away, the fatigue coming back with a vengeance. Oh how I wanted to be able to take myself out of the situation and get myself calmed down, but there seemed to be no refuge, no help in sight. I surrendered to the absurd pain of the moment.

Just in time to feel my pants grow warm.
I looked down. A dark stain was spreading across my lap.
I looked up. Espen stood in front of me, one hand on his hip, the other holding his penis like a garden hose.

Aimed right at me.

I roared. Ran inside with Espen running after, stripping my pee soaked clothes off and hurling them on the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL, ESPEN. WHY DID YOU PEE ON ME!!!! I AM so ANGRY WITH YOU RIGHT NOW."

Espen laughed.

I have no idea how I made it with he and I to the bathroom in one piece, but I did. I do remember my body trembling with fury. And I do remember him coming into my bathroom and saying something about his bathwater being too cold. And saying, "Fix it yourself. You know how." And more howling. There was a text to Tobias about how he should come home NOW if he wanted to keep his wife and son mentally intact.

And then the endless regret and anger at reality and myself for being unable to get what I needed so I could be who I know I am capable of being....but now you know why I had to apologize to Espen.