Seatbelt Surgery

So, I had to cut my daughter out of her seat the other day. Btw, it was the seatbelt I performed the incision on, not my daughter.

I had heard of the "terrible twos".....- although we DID experience those we have ALSO had the pleasure of having the:

"Overwhelmed (parents) Ones"

(or if you prefer alliterated version)

"What in the World, Where do I start, Why me (again the parents) Ones"

"Terrible Twos"

"Treacherous Threes"

"Fatal Fours"

"Ferocious Fives"

"Sociopathalogical Sixes"

"Subjective Sevens" (as it depends on the person telling the story & the day of the story)

I have not yet experience the "Eights" but my hope is the "Easy Eights".

Anyway, it all started on our way to drop off library books. Our little maniac princess safely (or so I thought) tucked away in the very back of the van, fastened tightly (ahem) in her booster, starts Fa-REAKING out. Since this is not uncommon, I calmly asked her what was wrong. As her cries escalated, I looked back & saw our little contortionist tangled up in her seatbelt.

Since the library was just a few seconds away, I waited till we pulled in front of the dropbox to see what exactly was going on. Again, since I'm quite used to this sort of craziness, I was not at all panicked as it was just her lower half of her body involved in the hot mess - till I actually tried to get her out. The Little Houdini managed to completely tie her leg up in the seatbelt which was coincidently jammed up top & would NOT give. AT ALL.

In a state of mild to medium hysteria, punctuated by moments of fleeting calm clarity, I quickly looked in the manual & googled "Honda Odyssey seat belt jam" for any info on how to unlock the seatbelt to no avail. Giving up on the jam, I proceeded to frantically attempt to untangle her little leg out. Pouring sweat, I called my overly cautious to the point of paranoia husband who told me I would have to CUT her out. Honestly, the thought HAD crossed my mind, but I just did NOT want to go there. But, I had no choice.

Stranded in the parking lot with my baby literally stuck in the back seat - wailing at the top of her lungs, I thanked myself for always having a - listen to this - SCISSORS - I now always carry in the middle console.

Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive able to leap tall buildings in a single bound...whatever...I cut the kid out.

Maybe it's because we're a family of wackos our kids are more challenging than other kids? Or because no one tells the truth only talks of the "joys of being a mom" (in sing songy opera voice)? In our world, for every joy, there are 46 "un-joys". (Sorry autocorrect.)

It's true, I complain a lot. A lot. I have a low tolerance for most - anything. Maybe it's lack of carbs, maybe it's hormonal. Maybe it's that I'm a wacko  actually, forget the strike-through, I am a wacko.

It is absolutely a phenomenal, beautiful, miracle - these little people - I live for them, & quite frankly, sadly, I don't know if I would still be alive if it weren't for them (that's a whole other blog on it's own). I feel TRULY blessed. I really do.

BUT, its freaking hard. It's around the clock quadra-polar chaos.

In regards to the seatbelt, oh well. Just another day in the life of a mommy. Makes for a good story I suppose! :-D :-( :-D