• rebekahannegena

Them

Updated: Aug 22

My pleasant life has been invaded. The creatures that interrupt my peace stole in silently. They crawled beneath the skin of my sweet children while I was blinking.

They have taken my children from me, and they will take yours as well. They lay in wait at the end of our children’s happy youth, like demons in need of a soul.


And once they have taken up residence behind the eyes of that sweet and precious little one, they ravage them from the inside out!


They have possessed my two oldest children. Where once they frolicked as lighthearted beings, content to derive happiness from the most basic elements, like dirt or water, sunshine, and lightning bugs, they now slump, dark beings with no propensity for happiness.

They are the black hole of my house, sucking into themselves and destroying all the light that dares touch them. They howl and blow like thunderstorms under the roof, and they rain on whatever is in their atmosphere.


I have lost the babes of my youth, and I am left with only tears and questions. Where do they come from? How are they getting in? What can we mothers do to save our children from their destructive forces?


But I must persevere. Though they have inhabited my babes, I occasionally catch thin glimpses of the strangled essence of my children. It happens rarely, and it is always brief, yet, it is unmistakable. The creatures are betrayed by a small laugh that escapes their pinch face and is then quickly stifled. Or a tear glistens in the eye at a sad scene in a movie and is then quickly wiped away. But I am always watching for the chinks in the armor, and these things are not lost on me.

I want to scream, and I occasionally do, “I know you are still in there somewhere! Fight, fight, don’t let them have you!”

But, alas, all such hysterics are frowned upon by the unsuspecting masses. They have bought the charade. They seem not to see the demons oozing out through the swollen red bumps covering the chin and forehead of what were once flawless, unmarred, and beautiful children.


They choose to ignore the elongated noses taking up residence in the place of the tiny buttons of our babies or the way our son’s hands begin to spread out into wide manlike mitts in place of the gentle hands that once existed at the ends of their tiny arms.

How can it all be so overlooked? The hair that covers the bodies that were once smooth and hairless, the bulging muscles of our sons and the bulging chests of our daughters, how are we so complacent, sitting by as they twist and morph the children that depend upon us for protection?

This is a cry for mothers everywhere to take up arms against these invaders! We must push back and destroy this common enemy! We are at war!

I, for one, want my children back! I miss them terribly, and this facsimile of them with its vague resemblance doesn’t fool me!

So, if you are a mother like me, sentenced to watch these invaders systematically steal your children from you while the world makes excuses like, “Get a grip, woman, they are just teenagers.” I say, “No more!”

Let’s lock them in their rooms and read them the rhymes they loved before these monsters turned them against it. Let’s tie them to the sofa and force them to watch that beloved dinosaur and his happy companions. Let’s help them to remember who they are!

Stand with me in Matriarchal defiance! I, for one, can’t listen to those deepening voices espousing their moronic arguments for another moment. I will not be locked out of their bedrooms or their phones any longer!


But most of all, I refuse to be locked out of their hearts. That heart that beat with love for me now sits locked away behind eyes filled with annoyance and disdain.

I have become a discarded thing in my teenager’s lives, no longer of use, an embarrassment, an inconvenience, and a nuisance. But I know that my little girl and my little boy are still in there calling out to me to save them!

“I’m coming, my darlings! Hold on a little longer! I will find a way in through this thick and stoic facade! And oh, when I do, what fun we will have doing all the things we both loved for so many years!


I will keep trying to emancipate you, no matter how many times you say the words of misery. Things like, “No,” “I don’t know,” and “What is the matter with you?”, “Why can’t you just be normal?”, “Mom, can you please just not?”

No matter what, I will continue to make you stand up straight so that you don’t look like a victim, wash your hands and say your blessing before you eat, brush your teeth twice a day, and do not pick your nose. “I saw you with my own eyes!” for goodness sake, shave your face, turn off the video game and do something with your life. No, not on my watch. Try again. That was not an acceptable tone, and last but not least, are you planning on walking out that door without hugging your mother?

No, I will not forsake you no matter how beastly you become as this metamorphosis twists your body and mind. And I will not be frightened off by your towering form or superior vocabulary. I will be here in my withering body, still fighting the good fight, right up until the very end.

And if the demon convinces your mind that you should leave me, I will find you. No matter which college you attend, I will google it, and I will be there for every single family day!”


Mothers unite!

8 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I carried my daughter for many excruciating months. I then labored for twenty hours to bring her into the world. I was torn and mutilated as her large head emerged from the birth canal. I have forgott

My husband, like all men, wishes to have his name revered. He desires to be spoken of by his family, friends, and co-workers in a positive light. He strives to be an upstanding person and, therefore,

For an explanation of why it is necessary to include the following definition, please see “Alarm” Warning: The research for this definition was submitted by my husband. My husband is a man. And althou