I put him in bed with me and tried to give him some milk. After 45 minutes of futile attempts to get him to consume more than 2 ounces, I decided we should just get moving.
So I put him in his crib with some interesting toys while I brushed my teeth and made the bed. Thank gawd I at least brushed my teeth! When I came back to check on him, he had fallen asleep again.
I left all the toys in the crib and shut his door and set about to vacuuming. Thursday’s are cleaning days in this joint. I was thrilled for a head start.
After vacuuming the main floor, I decided to hose out the bird bath and hose down the yard. I went out the basement door and got to it. There was birdseed everywhere because we are the type of bird loving assholes that think it’s fun to watch house sparrows and pigeons eat pounds of über expensive birdseed and crap it out all over our yard.
Now, aside from the fact that the door is barely two feet wide, there’s nothing remarkable about it. It has a little lock on the door knob and a separate deadbolt. The lock on the door knob when turned one way, makes the door lock from the inside and outside. When turned the other way, the lock remains “open.”
Chris and I have had multiple discussions about leaving this lock in the “open” position and always locking the deadbolt from the inside. This way, should one of us run into the yard to fill bird feeders or take out the trash, the door would remain open and we wouldn’t get locked out.
EXCEPT for some inexplicable reason several days ago, darling Husband turned that lock to the “locked” position. To make matters worse, he told me he was doing it and he told me as soon as he was done doing whatever it was, he would turn it back to the “open” position. I believed him and I never checked. . .That was at least two days ago. . . Never trust a man who can barely remember his own Mother’s birthday to remember to do ANYTHING!
I’m sure you can see where this shit show is headed?
So after I was done hosing down the yard and filling the bird bath, imagine my surprise to find the door wouldn’t open.
I was locked out! With the kid inside!! Fortunately, Mac was asleep in his crib but I was still terrified about the situation.
Picture me unshowered, mascara under my eyes, hair frizzy, in ratty old cleaning clothes frantically jiggling the door. Then racing up to the deck to try the other door (knowing full well it was locked too). The only thing stopping my cursing was the fact that I was under Mac’s bedroom windows and didn’t dare want to disturb him!
It was 7:48. I called my Husband (thankfully I had my phone in my pocket – because I’m a complete freak that can’t put the phone down). He sounded more calm than I felt.
Now here’s the even more jacked up part of this situation: Chris has heretofore refused to give a key to any of our neighbors. I’m not sure why but he has flat-out refused for the past 11 years. Even after locking himself out numerous times, once at night in the pouring rain while I was at school for 4 hours. . .Nope. Not doing it.
He was at work at least an hour away not counting rush hour traffic with two reports due and a presentation at 1:30. His parents have a key but they were at least 45 minutes away not counting rush hour traffic. And trust me the last thing I needed was my in-laws coming to rescue me in my unkept state and walking into our house in the middle of cleaning day. They would probably consider petitioning to terminate my parental rights!
I was starting to feel panicked. Locksmith? Chair through a window? Fire department? Yes. I even Googled “What to Do When You Are Locked Out of Your House?”
But Chris always manages to redeem himself. And this time was no exception: “Call the Dog Walkers.”
YES!!! The dog walkers have a key to our house and they are local. They could be here in minutes.
After one frantic voicemail and an email, The Doghouse Girls arrived within the half hour, key in hand like the angels they truly are to save me from my stupid self.
I sheepishly looked at Sue, partially because she surely thinks I’m an idiot for locking myself out of the house with my child inside and partly because I looked like a damned zombie. She hoped right out of her car, unlocked the door, and was gone before I could even hug her – which I certainly felt like doing.
Exactly one hour after the mishap, I was back in my house. The kid still sleeping none the wiser. The floors are mopped. And there is a small envelope with a spare key just waiting to be given to the neighbor. . .just as soon as I shower.