So either my kid is about the smartest thing there is or she's just a big ol' pain in the ass. My guess is that she's both, and this is going to end up giving me more than a few heart attacks from here on out. Starting this morning. This morning, I was running around like a lunatic trying to get out the door with her as always. Those of you that know me even a little bit know what a miracle it is for me to get out the door every morning with actual pants on. And if I manage to not forget my cell phone, wallet, train pass, purse, or leave my lunch sitting on the counter during the process, my day's already about as good as it's going to get.
This morning, it was my turn for daycare drop off, which involves me being responsible for getting myself AND a small toddler out the door (while dealing with a couple of dogs in the process too). Now, getting out the door is something I've worked long and hard at, because I hear it's one of those skills that's kind of essential for survival. But these particular mornings are chaotic at best, and I've given up on getting it done gracefully so long as I'm able to get it done at all. Meaning if I end up walking out the door with my hair in a big mess or forget to take off my flip flops, I cut myself some slack. If the kid starts rolling around on the dog bed right after I've showered and changed her, I just brush her enough to make sure she's only sort of covered in dog hair.
This morning, the kid woke up extra early, so I ended up taking her in the shower with me, but other than that, I thought things were all right. I think I hit most of the hot spots when soaping up, and I managed to get us both dressed, the dogs fed, even a lunch packed for me. Breakfast is at 8:30 at her daycare, and I wasn't even looking at being late, which is kind of huge for me these days. If things went according to plan, I would have the kid handed over by 8 and even catch the express train by 8:15.
If. See, I think my problem was that I aimed a little too high. But anyway, I was on a roll. Even convinced the kid that she needed to get her shoes and socks on without having her resort to tears, which is another plus. I mean, not the shoes/socks especially, but just convincing the little princess to do anything on our schedule rather than hers is, well, how shall I say this tactfully, challenging. But this morning, things were going pretty well. Well, except for the part where I forget to tell you that part of the reason that everything was flowing smoothly was because I let the kid play with my keys as we were heading out. She LOVES keys, especially pushing all the buttons on them. But who cares how I get her there, right? All that matters is that I've managed to get her in the car and buckle her in without even a tiny tantrum. Kudos to me, I totally rock.
So I'm guessing some of you may already be guessing what was in store for me this morning. But I'll go ahead and tell you the full story because isn't this blog all about showcasing my idiot moments? So she's all buckled in, happily pushing away. I get this WHOA, crazy thought, wouldn't it suck if she locked me out of my car while she was sitting there? I've been around the block a few times now, so I know how this works. If it seems unlikely, chances are it probably will happen to me at some time or another. So I left the front passenger door open after I put her inside. It was cold, and my car wasn't in the garage, but better that the kid be cold for a second than locked into my car. So good deal. I'm on it. Kid buckled in, check. My stuff sitting by the garage door, ready to put in the car, check. Car door open, check. The door to our garage/house also open because I don't want to get locked out before I'm completely ready to get out of there. Kid's coat in the passenger seat, check. I run back to the garage, slip some shoes on, grab my stuff and throw those into the passenger seat as well. Door still open, check. And I'm already to go until I get this amazing idea. I'll grab something else so that I can trade the kid for my car keys. Which would mean avoiding any hysterics as we're heading out. Awesome, man, this parenting thing is for the birds! Random trinket found on the floor of the garage, check. Lock the garage/house door, check. Run back to the car, close the passenger door as I walk past it, then reach for the back door to hand over my nifty gift, ch- whoa, WHAT?
Yep, you read that right. I guess they don't really teach you this in law school. That if you're keeping a door open to avert a major crisis, your best chances of actually avoiding the crisis in question is to wait until the key exchange has been made instead of deciding to CLOSE THE F"N DOOR as you walk past it and THEN reaching for the back door. Because the chances are, inevitably, all doors to the car are ALREADY LOCKED at this point by your button-pushing happy toddler who's been doing nothing but pushing the LOCK button since she got into her seat. The key to averting a crisis apparently, is to actively keep averting the crisis until all possible moments during which said crisis could occur are completely behind you.
So here I am, house locked up, my purse with my cell phone in the front seat, my kid in the back seat with my car keys, and no way to get in anywhere. We have a side gate but we keep it locked. The dogs are barking. The kid is getting a little impatient. I don't even have my coat on, because it's guess where -- in the front seat of the car.
"Push the button," I said cheerfully to my brilliant kid (who I've been SO certain lately has understood our every word because she says "YA!" with so much authority), determined to be calm. And god knows, the kid can push the button. The last thing I wanted to do was freak her out so much that she flung the keys away. The best plan, I decided, was to calmly encourage her to open the door again, and somehow point her in the direction of the right button to do it. Maybe at this point, I should remind you that she's a year and half, so the reasoning skills are well, you know, still coming along a bit, despite my enamored attempts to think otherwise. Twenty minutes later, she's pushed every button BUT the one to open the car door. And before you go knocking my kid's button-pushing skills, I should tell you that there are in fact FOUR possible buttons to my car that she could push, along with 3 possible buttons to G's car, because I have his set on my key ring as well. So it's no small feat to push the right button, especially with an increasingly not-so-calm mother yelling through the window to "push the button." And then, "No, no, not that one. The other one. Do you see that other one right next to it?" Well, not yelling so much as high-pitched pleading. But still, at some point, the kid decided the game wasn't fun anymore and she pushed the keys aside and started to cry. Because the stress of finding "the other one" just became too much, I guess. But did not THANK GOD fling the keys away from her because it would have been just my luck to not be able to avert THAT crisis also.
So finally, I gave up, and started to think about how to break into my home. I was able to scale the fence with the help of the garbage can. And first bonus of the day proved to be that the back door was unlocked!! Because you know, I inevitably forget something on my way out the door, and today, thankfully, it was that I totally spaced locking the back door after I let the dogs back in. Hallelujah for that, because otherwise, the plan was to try every window, but I'm pretty sure we keep them all bolted (due to my obsessive fear that our house will get broken into and the baby stolen while we sleep -- totally different story but blame it on too many Criminal Minds episodes).
But THEN it turned out that I couldn't find the spare key anywhere, despite five whole minutes of searching. So finally, I went over next door and tried to see if my neighbors were around. Who doesn't like being woken up at 8 am? Definitely not someone with two small kids of her own, chances are she's been up for hours already. I figured I'd just use her cell and call G to see where the spare was kept. Except that I guess her kids got her up so early that she had left the house already. And I don't know anyone else in our neighborhood. Plus, I felt less like an idiot telling her the story because she's come over to our house after her son locked himself up in their bedroom. Anyway, that plan didn't work, but guess what a great way to meet your neighbors is?
Next issue: G didn't pick up when I called from some strange number. At this point, I was standing outside my car with a neighbor's cell. I left a franctic message but then saw that D had picked up the keys again and was pushing on buttons. I encouraged her again to push the "other one." And whaddya know, she said, "YA?" and she did it!!! Not just once, but twice, so she opened the back door as well!!!
So ya, major crisis averted! And the kid seemed fairly proud of herself when I told her how smart she'd been to push the right button. "Ya!" Conveniently forgetting of course that it took her almost half hr to get it right and if she hadn't pushed the damn button to begin with . . . but whatever, kid. "Ya!" So smart!
Want to hear the real kicker too? Because this story just isn't filled with enough of them, of course. Apparently, the spare key had been right there with our other keys. I even saw it, just didn't realize it was the car spare. But you know, it's better this way. I got to meet the neighbor. The story got to be about how my smart kid figured out how to open the car door instead of how I was able to scale our fence and "break in" to our house. I got to leave a frantic message for G. And he got to call back some random number that he didn't know before I could call and tell him to never mind the whole thing. So in a way, he got to meet the neighbor too! Much better this way.
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