Every morning, five days a week, I do the same thing. At ten to 9, I call to Harry to get his shoes on and grab his backpack. I gather up Liam and buckle him into his carseat. Then, I drive Harry down to the elementary school, give him a kiss and he gets out. I drive back home. It takes probably five minutes, total. I get back home, pull into the garage, get out and unlock the back door and then get Liam out. We go inside and I put him down for his morning nap. Voila. EVERY morning, it’s exactly the same.
This morning, though, I got home, pulled into the garage, got out and hit the button to unlock the doors. Closed my door and went to open the sliding door to get Liam. Nothing doing, the door was locked. I looked back at my door, it was locked too. Guess what? Instead of unlocking the doors, I locked them instead. The doors were locked. Inside the van still were my purse, my keys, my cellphone and MY BABY. Oh yes, I sure did. I had that moment, you know what moment I’m talking about? The one where you’re so filled with self-hatred and cold fear that you almost can’t think about what to do next. I called Kile and asked him where the spare key to the van was.
“I think it’s either up in one of the front pockets on my duffel bag or in my change drawer.” Then he mentioned that he thought I had it last and maybe I put it somewhere else. If I had, it probably would have been in one of my purses. I checked everywhere. No key. “Do you have a key on your keychain?” No, of course not. Why would he? We only have the two, after all. And, if I recall correctly, the spare didn’t even work that well.
By now, Liam is starting to cry and I’m starting to feel a little frantic. I implore him to call someone. Our insurance, a locksmith, I DON’T CARE. He kinda wants to keep looking for the key. I’m so beyond the key at the moment. I want my baby out. I think I actually used those words, “I’ll look for the key later, right now I WANT MY BABY OUT.” Wisely not wishing to further upset the Mama Bear, he got off the phone to call someone. A minute later, he let me know a locksmith was on the way. “He’ll be there in 15-20 minutes.” I think that’s when my jaw literally hit the floor. “Does he know there’s a baby in the car??” Yes, Kile had mentioned that. But it’s not like we’re around the corner from ANYTHING, living out in the sticks like we do. So I waited. And waited. And can I say, that was the longest 15-20 minutes in my LIFE?
Can I also mention that it snowed here last night? It wasn’t anywhere near the coldest day of the year or anything, but it was pretty dang chilly. Even in our garage. And guess what? Upon peering in at my crying baby I saw that he had kicked his blanket off. Of course. So now I had that to worry about as well. And worry. And worry.
FINALLY, I saw the van coming up the street. I waited with baited breath while he got out his tools and got to work on the lock. Of course, my van has a particularly stubborn lock. At least it’ll deter those car thieves, right? The lock popped open and the guy unlocked the rest of the doors. I had Liam out of his carseat so fast it’d make your head spin.
I’m the biggest dork. The worst mother EVER. I can’t believe I did something so mindless, so stupid. So I’m thinking I must be banned from having any more kids because I obviously don’t have the faculties to take care of the ones I already have.
