Tom Cruise Is Wrong

August 01, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Well, I've been off the LexaPro for several days and I have one thing to say: Tom Cruise has his head firmly wedged up his heinie. I'd send him a can opener to help him with that, but with all these international mailing security concerns it just wouldn't do. So here's my advice: Katie! Grab the Crisco! Your boy needs some lube and a whole lotta help!

Let me take you back, back to last night at 1:10AM. I'd been in bed for a couple of hours, trying to sleep. After a bathroom visit, I notice as I peek from the hallway that my son is still in the same position as when he fell asleep.

10 minutes later, from my side of the bed....

Me: Pssst, CD? Honey?

CD: Mrhmf?

Me: Can you go check on Bear?

CD: Mrhurdihrumf?

Me: He's still in the same position as when he fell asleep.... (voice trails off with the following thought deeply embedded in the silence: "... and he usually flops like a fish in his sleep ending upside down and backwards by now so obviously something DRASTIC has happened and I am too terrified to go check for myself...")

[pause for the whir of the air conditioner]

CD: Hrm, OK.

A few seconds later.... he stumbles back into bed.

CD: He's fine, honey.

Me: And you checked...

CD: He's breathing, he's sleeping, he's fine.

And then? Then I was relieved enough that I could get up myself and check. I sat in my son's room, watching his chubby hands and toes stretch as he snored softly. I thought about moving him from this house he loves so much, with these wonderful neighbors. I thought about how sad it would make him. I thought about the fleeting nature of childhood and how the mistakes we make as parents echo through a lifetime. I thought about all the evilmongers who would harm my child if they could.

I got myself into such a tizzy that it took me over an hour to get back to sleep.

So what have we learned? That my current levels of anxiety had mutated me into Shirley MacLaine in "Terms of Endearment". I am Aurora, crazy lady from Chicago. It took a few years of advanced stress squishing me like a bug, but it's official - I've passed some kind of threshold into a bad, strange, spinning place.

I am calling Dr. Wonderful. I'm gonna tell him that Tom Cruise is Wrong, that just because Lexapro didn't work that I am not giving up. I need a new drug, and a kind voice.

And I need it now.

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