The id is governed by the pleasure principle. The ego is governed by the reality principle. The superego is governed by the goal of perfection. The little-known fourth level of consciousness, which will be referred to as momdemon, is governed by the ensuing meltdown of one's own spawn. It is this fourth level that we are going to explore today, but first the LONG backstory.
On Saturday, we went to a pre-Thanksgiving feast at a friend's house. The pre-Thanksgiving feast was hosted by a beloved friend and his girlfriend, who together have 10,000 friends who are all beautiful. So there we were, the two parents and baby, in a house exploding with single people working on their careers and personal interests.
Attempting to mingle with the masses, we introduced ourselves to a few people who made really exaggerated faces at our son and kind of poked at him in a sweet-intentioned way. And as usual, we retreated further back until we found ourselves standing around the folding tables in the kitchen, waiting for the brie to come out of the oven. We made small talk about how amazing filo dough is. We tried to explore the topic of walnuts and honey, but conversation died quickly and anxiety rose faster.
My family is kind of like a bunch of hermits who live together. We have friends that we dearly love, but for both my husband and myself, parties are just generally hard for us. Especially when there are no pets around to pretend to be overly interested in.
We arrived at 2:15 to a 2:00 invitation and feared that our tardiness would interrupt the meal. At 3:30 the brie finally came out of the oven and appetizers began. We shoved crackers at our child who was starving and we made ourselves a little station in the corner to enjoy some snacks. Other folks caught the smell and made their way to the kitchen as well. These other folks had been drinking wine since they arrived, so the attempts at small talk became even more distorted and impossible. Crowds started pushing their way in. And we quickly found ourselves sitting on the floor next to the trash can and the attic door. In a corner. Out of the way. When the food came in sometime after 4:00 everyone was warm with wine and delighted at the prospect of food.
Everyone else = happy
The baby = LHS
LHS- A new acronym I just made up, which means "Losing His Shit". We were still sitting in the corner on the floor (the table was full) and that is when it happened. MOMDEMON.
Let me lay it all out for you- It started when the baby started to buck himself around. Turning into a stiff board and shoving himself upright and out of any sort of restrained position. Whilst bucking, he was squawking his awful gut-scream. I had kept him contained for two hours in an environment where nothing is baby friendly (i.e. finding multiple screws and pennies on the floor), in environment that causes me great emotional turmoil, being hungry, and knowing the baby is hungry, and then the wave came over me. The wave of transition as my consciousness switched from something human into what for lack of a better term, shall become known as, momdemon.
My eyes become hyper focused on the kid. Everything else going on the the world is a pain in my rear end at the moment. I start thinking short, abbreviated thoughts. I start communicating in single word demands. "Roll." I bark and my husband. "Fork." He stands near us on the floor and watches as the baby smacks the plate and our food goes flying. He watches as I attempt to gather some of the little bits and shove them into his screaming mouth, while licking my fingers to get some sustenance for myself. My husband stands there as an ally in the war, but some how in momdemon state, even having the other half of your soul stand and look on as you fail to control your child, pushes you too far. I demand, "Just go." (his friends are eating outside). "It's fine", I state 10,000 times. "I don't want to be an absent father, who walks away when things are hard," he retorts. My heart hears it and thinks, "I love this man." My mind sees him and thinks, "NO ONE LOOK AT US! EVERYONE GO AWAY! CAN'T YOU SEE HOW HARD THIS FOR MY KID. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! I CAN'T BELIEVE I USED TO THINK PARTIES WERE FUN! STOP LOOKING AT ME!"
After a short fit of this, I took the baby outside and went for a walk. It was 42 degrees and I was wearing a dress, but dadgumit I would sit in that corner no longer. He eventually calmed down and we returned and ate pie and all was well, but the whole memory of that party will be forever filled with the red-raged momdemon moments of trying to survive that situation. I don't know if women get in this mood as some evolutionary by-product of saving a child against all else or if I just literally cannot handle it all sometimes.
A quick 4 hours after we arrived at the party, we got into the car. For a few moments we drove in sweet silence. Then my husband begins, "When you get in 'that mode'…" I tried to come up with how to explain myself, but found it impossible in that moment and I was also still on the borderline of going back to the 4th state of consciousness, so I just didn't answer him. However, the idea for this post came to mind. Anyone else find themselves in momdemon mode, too?
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