Knights Becoming and a Lady in Waiting

Click!

I have to tell you the single most awful sound in the entire world.  I heard it today.  I hope I don't hear it again in the near future.

Click!

Princess Moo (6mo) had just gone down for her first nap of the day.  It was about 11:30.  The little Princes and I figured we'd get in some outside time before we needed to do lunch, awake the sleeping princess, and run off for music lessons.  That's when it happened.

Click!

As the door from the house to the garage closed behind us, it didn't just close... it locked.  My little princess was locked in and we were locked out.

Okay.  Take a deep breath.  No inhaler out here, so hyperventilating or giving myself an asthma attack would not be a very positive experience.  It also might send the boys into panic.  Three boys in a panic is not a pretty sight.

I can do this.  We hid a key in the garage so we could get back in if this ever happened again (the last time was at 4:30 p.m. and the Princess was in my arms, though).  The key is right... um, okay, not there.  Maybe... no, not there either.

I tore the garage apart, but never found the key.  I looked in places twice, even three times.  I checked the back porch, in case I'd misunderstood my DH and he'd left it there.  No key.

Repeat the deep breathing.  Suggest to the boys that they go play a little longer.  Ignore the clock, which says it's now past lunchtime, nearly Princess-waking time, and very close to music class time.  We are calm.  We are cool.  We are not going to lose it.

I go to my wonderful next-door neighbors, who are older and retired.  I ring the doorbell and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  No one answers.  (I later found out that they were in their basement and got to the door long after I'd left).

I look up the street.  No neighbors seem to be home.  I look down the street.  Ditto.  I do see, however, a truck parked a few houses over across the street and some guys mowing a lawn.  I've never seen them before.  They've never seen me.  My princess is locked in the house. 

I muster up every outgoing tendency I've never possessed and paste on the friendliest smile my face can currently produce, then saunter across the street.  I'm not worried.

"Hi.  I'm a really bad mother and unprepared for even the smallest emergency.  I've locked my infant in the house, along with my keys and my cell phone.  Could I trouble you two total strangers to let me use your cell phone to call my husband so that a) a big strong man can come and rescue me and b) you'll have his number to stalk him later?"

Alright, that's not what I said.  It was more, "Hi, my baby is locked in the house and I can't find our spare key.  Could I borrow a phone to call my husband?"

They kindly assented (the stalking part wasn't out of the bag yet, after all) and I froze.  My husband carries a cell phone.  Technology just dealt me a whammy.

When I want to call my husband, I push the #1 key and hold it.  Ta da.  No buttons to push, no fumbling in the dark, no memorization.  No memorization.

I don't know his cell phone number.

I know his desk number at work, because I have had to fill out a lot of forms with it.  I never give out his cell number, though.  That's the number he's more likely to answer.

Well, you gotta work with what you have, so I put in the work number.  Ring.  Ring.  Ring.  Surprise, surprise, voicemail.

I leave a polite message informing him to come home and save his damsel in distress, then give the phone back to the two men with a grateful smile.  "I'm sure he'll be here shortly.  Thank you so much."

The two grubby, mildly malodorous angels assure me it was no problem and I trot back across the street to watch the boys play.

15 minutes go by.  I glance down the street just a few times, just in case.  Not worried.

30 minutes go by.  I glance down the street every time a car approaches, plus a few times in between, just for the fun of it.  Not really worried.

One hour goes by.  I am pacing up and down the sidewalk, peering in neighbor's windows (from afar), and hopping from foot to foot (did I mention we don't have outdoor plumbing?).  I'm not worried.  I'm mildly frantic.

At this moment, it is the misfortune of our neighborhood postal worker to come by my house.  I immediately take him captive until he can jimmy a door open.

Er, sorry.  That was the fantasy version.  I do ask him if I can borrow a phone (everyone has a cell now, it seems) and try a random number that might be my husband's.  Nope.  Some stranger tells me he is not my husband and cannot come let me in the house.  Well, I tried.  I thank the postal worker and we wait another 30 minutes.

The kindly postal worker goes above and beyond "snow and sleet" and offers to help me break into the house.  I thank him, but assure him that my husband will be home any minute.  I must remember to give him homemade fudge for Christmas, just for the thought.

30 more minutes.  Princess Moo gives a few peeps, but settles back to sleep.  She never sleeps two hours in the morning.  She will not be asleep soon.  Music lessons are nearly over.  My knight in shining armor is looking a bit tarnished.  I'm going to have to do something myself.

Since we are in the garage, I have plenty of tools.  I get a hammer.  With a tentative little tap, I try to bust out the windowed door to the playroom.  I don't really want to bust it, of course.  I'm hoping that the sheer desperation of the action will be transmitted to my husband by the alpha waves in the air and he will come flying home to save me so he doesn't have to later fix a busted window.  I wait.  He doesn't come.

Sighing (and cringing), I swing the hammer again, hard.  A tiny spiderweb appears in the glass... then travels all over the window until the whole thing is a mess of tempered glass.  But only on one side.  This is double-paned glass??  ARGH!

I swing the hammer much harder this time, smashing right through the window and sending gummy bits of glass all over the playroom and garage.  I use the hammer to clear away just enough glass that I don't have to worry about being cut, then open the door from the inside.

It's over.  Okay, I still have to clean up the glass, tape newspapers over both sides of the window, feed the kids, and try to stop shaking.  But I'm in the house and no one has died (or screamed bloody murder because Mommy wasn't there to get her).  In fact, by the grace of God, Princess Moo slept for another 40 minutes while I did all the clean-up.  She woke up just as I put the box of glass out in the garage.

I eventually called to tell my DH that he didn't need to trouble himself getting home and rescuing me.  If he can't rescue me in less than three hours, I'll just do it myself.

I am woman.  Hear me shatter glass. 

I knew hammers were good for something.

Untitled Comment

5:36 PM, Apr. 20, 2006 .. Posted by nsremom

GOOD GRIEF!!!! What a trauma you've experienced. I cannot believe your hubby didn't check his voice mail. Wow. But, your baby girl was safe and didn't even have to suffer waiting for mommy. WHAT did your husband say?????

What a horrible day!

5:45 PM, Apr. 20, 2006 .. Posted by dinomomm

I'll bet that will never happen again, but we'll all recognize your house by the sheer number of fake key-hiding rocks strategically placed all over the yard. I am so glad you are all safe!

I'm off to hide a few keys and memorize a few cellphone numbers. Yikes!

incredible

5:53 PM, Apr. 20, 2006 .. Posted by chickadee

what a well-told story. i was hanging on every word.

Untitled Comment

8:42 PM, Apr. 20, 2006 .. Posted by DiWilliams

What a terrifying experience! I had a similar experience once, but I never told any body about it. It's my little secret. So glad that your princess is okay!!!
Blessings ~ Diane

The power of a woman.... with a hammer

9:18 AM, Apr. 21, 2006 .. Posted by InHizImage

Very well told! I love reading things you've written.
I'm so glad your Princess is okay and that you didn't get hurt (or anyone for that matter) in the process.
Blessings and Shalom

Untitled Comment

11:11 PM, Apr. 21, 2006 .. Posted by eyecorn

You had me on the edge of my seat!! Don't you hate it when one thing after another after another after another just go the way of Murphy's Law!!!?? Your story reminds me that I need to double check out hidden house key. DH put a hidden key under my van and I will tell you that it takes 3 hands to count the number of times I've used it in the last 3 years. Now that your DH knows you can swing a hammer, he may have you on some home improvement projects...quick! You need a good damsel in distress situation :)

Untitled Comment

1:01 PM, Apr. 22, 2006 .. Posted by blestwithsons

hee hee hee..... What a great post!!!! Of course - if it were me, I'd just have told my sons that they were not allowed to go in the house. We would have been inside in less than 10 minutes. Know what I mean? *grin* Glad it worked out all right!!

oh how scray!!

11:50 AM, Apr. 24, 2006 .. Posted by MuckFootMom

I'm glad it's all over & she's safe and you got in!!!!