Months came and went. Months turned into a year, which turned into two and then the destruction of our home by our three children began. They didn’t play—they demolished! Their favorite game was Break and Destroy, and Myriam was the ringleader and teacher. Toys never last longer than a week, maybe two. Books were shredded and sometimes eaten—they preferred Dr. Zeus but any book would do in a pinch. I couldn’t keep curtains on the bedroom windows or decorations of any kind on the walls—except for the kind that are made with permanent makers. After a while, the walls of Myriam’s bedroom more closely resembled that of Swiss cheese than a 2-3 year old girl’s room, because of all of the gaping holes they put in the wall. Furniture was destroyed and/or dismantled—to this day I am amazed at how quickly, quietly, and efficiently my children can dismantle a piece of pre-fab furniture without the aid of tools! (It’s a talent really.) We often joked that we could rent out our children to remodeling companies. My kids could do a tear down faster and more effectively than any crew.
It was also around this time that Myriam stopped sleeping. Now please note my daughter quit napping entirely at eighteen months. But around twenty-four to thirty months she stopped sleeping through the night too. We would put all of our children to bed at eight o’clock and Myriam would wail until ten, she would then sleep until one or two o’clock in the morning. She’d be up and down the rest of the wee hours and we’d be lucky if we got four hours of sleep a night. My husband and I started taking turns being up with her because she wouldn’t just stay in her room and play. No, when she woke up she either woke up her brothers or got into things. It was also at that point that we began locking her in her room at night.
One morning Myriam didn’t wake us up or perhaps we were just so sleep deprived that we didn’t hear her, I don’t know but when we got up the next morning the back door was standing wide open, our dogs were roaming the neighborhood and Myriam was playing in the clubhouse in the backyard. It was six o’clock in the morning, fifty degrees out and she was running around in her diaper, a bright blue left sock, and a red stocking hat (I mean you do loose the 10% of your body heat though an uncovered head!). We don’t know how long she’d been out there or where else she had gone. That day, while at lunch my husband bought a chain latch for the outside of Myriam’s door. And that night we were awakened at 1 AM to Myriam howling like a banshee, the slamming of her bedroom door and then the crashing of her dresser as she toppled it her rage.
Read the Saga:
The Road--Part 1
The Road--Part 2
The Road--Part 3
The Road--Part 4