“You’re the character they don’t put in horror movies. You mess everything up but you’re oddly effective. Like you’re hitting the killer with a froggy umbrella and you’re crying and saying you’re sorry. And the killer is all “What the hell, lady?”

So my Catherine remembers all of her dreams. In detail. The other night she dreamed that a psycho killer had come to kill the family. She proceeded to tell me how her mom was calm and logical and mom-like.

Then she said the opening quote about me. And I was far from offended. It’s like these kids (and their mom, for that matter) have been watching me my whole life and taking notes.

She said my arrival was far from the heroic experience one might want their stepdaughter to subconsciously hope for. Basically, my role was to delay the killer while the kids ran from the bedroom they were hiding in to the bathroom where Beth had lowered the emergency escape ladder.

She’s right. I would undoubtedly stay behind so the ones I love could get away. I would absolutely pick up the nearest object, regardless of effectiveness and just start hitting.

What was Laura S’s theory in pool (clack, clack not splash, splash)? If you hit the balls hard enough, they have to go somewhere? Yes, I believe that lost us many games in college but made for lots of fun. Perhaps that could be employed in this situation as well. Perhaps.

More than likely I would end up hitting myself with whatever it was more than whoever I was trying to hit and inevitably losing the “weapon” to them.

My “tactic” of complete and utter chaos could still be in my favor, because , yes, I would have been crying and apologizing the entire time because I’m just really that much of a pacifist.

In the dream, I actually threw a tv at the killer and kind of hit him in his back when he turned to dodge it. I also flubbed some silly line like, “Get back in the bad horror movie where you belong.” And the killer just raised his hands up in total confusion.

Totally my plan. Completely baffle a killer with dad jokes and terrible fighting skills making time for the family to get away.

Wait. Is that true? I mean, I love these kids. Would the switch have flipped? What wouldn’t I do to make sure they were ok? I mean if that worked, and no one had to get hurt, great! But froggy umbrellas or TVs or kicking the killer in the groin (I really feel like this is an underutilized move) or even jumping on the killer sending us both tumbling down the stairs would be ok with me. Anything to keep my family safe. I would do anything.

What I love, however, is that my kid-to-be doesn’t see that in me. In a world that surrounds her with violence, she sees me as the person who would cry because she had to hurt someone in order to save her kids. And, who knows? I might. I might cry at the bottom of the stairs as I hit him with the froggy umbrella.

Beth says it’s because Catherine feels safe with me. I love that. I really, really love that.

I think Catherine’s dream also implied that she feels safe with Beth. At least that’s what I got out of, “It took you and Aunt Rhonda to pull mommy off of the killer and even then she was still swinging the frying pan at his head.”

Yeah, that kid knows she’s loved.