Say My Name

If you find yourself living in a haunted house, you have two choices: either run for the hills or find a way to deal.  In this house, we deal.  Or, at least, we try to.  I think I do a pretty good job at it, but every once in a while....something gets me.

Last night- well, this morning, really (around 4 am) I definitely got "got."  Big time.  I was kind of awake and kind of asleep, dreaming about something that I don't quite remember.  What I do remember is that I was fighting with someone, maybe a coworker or a friend (arguing fighting, not lightsaber fighting or anything) and I was really stressed out.  

And then, clear as day, right next to my head, I heard, "Jenn."  It was a little boy's voice.  And it was real.  I sat straight up, fully expecting someone (Bobby) to be standing beside my bed.  I thought I saw a shadow on the wall, but that easily could have been my imagination.  The voice, however- the voice was not my imagination.  I heard it.  I know I did.  

I sat in bed, my heart racing, one shaky hand on my husband's arm in case I needed to pierce his skin with my razor sharp nails to wake him up in a hurry.  I tried to convince myself that it wasn't real, that I had dreamed it.  But I didn't.  It was real.

As you might remember, a similar thing happened to me once before.  I woke up to the sound of a woman's voice saying, "Karen."  What happened last night/this morning was very much the same, but also very different.  The voice was different.  It was definitely, distinctly a little boy's voice.  And he wasn't telling me his name, he was calling mine.  (Insert goosebumps here.)

The worst part was, as I sat there staring into the darkness, looking and listening, I realized something.  I had to pee.  Like, really, really had to pee.  But the bathroom, as we all know, is Bobby's favorite hangout.  What if his plan was to wake me up by saying my name, hoping that it would result in me going into the bathroom?  What if he was trying to lure me in there for something?  I couldn't go.  I couldn't fall victim to his plan.  

But what if he needed something?  He is just a little boy, after all.  And I am the mom of the house.  Maybe?  I don't know.  What I do know is that I got very little sleep last night.  And that I might, quite possibly, have a bladder infection now...

Damn It, Bobby!

Whether it's accurate or not, pretty much everyone has taken to calling our little ghost boy Bobby.  And we're pretty sure that his favorite place to hang out, besides outside on the tire swing, is in the downstairs bathroom.  Which makes him the likely culprit of the mess I found in the shower this morning. 

I live in a house full of boys, so it's safe to say that I'm the only daily bather in the C Family Estate.  So when I stepped into the shower this morning, it was the first time anyone had taken one since the previous morning when I took one before work.  I know this for a fact.  I also know that my kids, who are 14 and 10, know better than to mess with my stuff.  Because I will cut them.  (Not really.  But don't tell them that.)

Yet, as I attempted to enjoy the steamy goodness of my morning shower today, something caught my eye. A big glob of my pink, girly shampoo on the shower wall.  And more on the built in shelving.  And even more on the top of the shower stall, where I usually set my shampoo.  It was everywhere.  Both my shampoo and conditioner bottles were almost completely empty, their contents smeared and splattered all over the shower walls.  I spent more time cleaning the shower than I did actually showering.  And now I'm out of hair product.  And all I have to say about it is this: