Saturday, November 16, 2013

Locked out

The kids and I walked home from Magdalena's gymnastics class this morning and found ourselves locked out of the house. I immediately found myself feeling like the setup to a brain teaser: "You're locked out of the house with two kids and an infant. You have a burp cloth and a Kindle. The 8-year-old has to go to the bathroom. What do you do?"

The sensible thing to do would have been to call campus security to let me into my house (at an unknown cost), or camp out at a neighbor's house until Jeremy got home. But I am not sensible, apparently, because I talked myself out of doing either of those things.

Instead, I told myself that Jeremy would be home soon enough. In the meantime, I tried boosting Magdalena through the opening in our back garden wall, so we could at least try the sliding glass door. We tried both windows in front. When none of that worked, we spent our time tidying up the front patio while we waited. We even hosed off the scooters and jogging stroller. We were sitting pretty.

Then all at once, everyone was thirsty and hungry and hot and needing to pee. I nursed Sterling, and he soiled his diaper. So I took his diaper off and wet the burp cloth to use as a wipe (I may never use it as a burp cloth again). When I took his clean little diaperless self back onto my lap, he soiled himself again, all over me. "Sitting pretty" had turned into me sitting in front of my house on a poo-stained patio with a naked baby, sopping wet pants from hosing myself off, an 8-year-old about to wet HER pants, and a 5-year-old in a leotard.

So we put the hose on very low on the ramp part of our patio and the girls played makeshift Slip 'n Slide in their clothes until Jeremy got home and rescued us. In total, we were outside for about 80 minutes, the first hour of which was pretty uneventful and the last 20 minutes of which I could have done without. But all is well that ends well, I suppose.


Crys said...

Is this an introvert independent quality. Back in the day when I was a latch key kid my sister and I would sometimes forget our key but rather then walk across the street or to my sister's babysitter three houses down we'd hide in the backyard with our dog sandy until my mom got home. Once I actually broke my arm and rather then go for help I just feel asleep on the lawn chair waiting for mom. What is that?

Suzanne Bubnash said...

If you're permitted to get an extra key you could find a place to hide it in the front planter. You don't want a repeat of this experience.

Katie Lewis said...

Haha! Sad, but so funny.

Liz Johnson said...

Hahahahaha oh no. That's not good. Especially the part about being pooped on. I mean, really? Have we not lost enough dignity as mothers?!

Sarah Cook said...

I would have been crying by the time all that happened!


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