Mother of the Year

I can write about this because I've already told Steven what happened...

This morning Jackson woke up 2 hours (!!!!) later than he usually does. So, I decided to cancel our 1:30 play date (since I knew he'd have a late nap) and brought Jackson downstairs for breakfast.

After breakfast, I arranged to meet my mother in law, Terri, at Target to print some pictures of Jackson. We'll go every few months and print all the pictures since the last time we went. Since we do one hour photo for the better quality, we'll walk around the store and talk while we wait. I knew her schedule would be pretty flexible, so I could grab Jackson and go when he woke up. Which is exactly what I did!

I got ready for the day and picked out Jackson's clothes while he was napping and pulled from my computer the pictures we were going to print. Then, I grabbed Jackson, rushed him down to the car and got him in his car seat.

This is where everything went wrong.

As I was putting Jackson in the car, he grabbed my keys and pushed a button, honk. "Good job Jackson, you locked the car! You did that!" I encouraged him, while I took the keys away and threw them in the front seat, as I often do when I'm concentrating on putting him in his car seat. Having safely fastened his car seat, I shut the door and went to open the front door.

"Oh shoot" (that's not exactly what I said...)

"Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot" I (kinda) said as I ran around the car trying every handle.

I call Terri for back-up "Terri, you won't believe what I just did... I locked Jackson in the car and myself out of the house."

Terri tells me she'll call Steve to find out what he suggests, and head over to our house, so I called our neighbors, Curtis and Emily, praying that Curtis would be home and able to help me out.

"Curtis, do you know how to break in to a car?"

"Do I know how to break in to a car?"
(I found out later that at this point Emily asked him who he was talking to)

"Yeah, I, uhhh, I locked Jackson in the car and we're outside, behind our house."

I get off the phone with Curtis, who promises to grab what he can and be over as quickly as possible, and get a call from Terri, telling me not to call a locksmith, but to instead call 9-1-1.

Jackson, through all of this, thinks it's an elaborate game of peek-a-boo and keeps waving to me and grinning from inside the car. I briefly consider whether or not I can get him to pull up on the door lock and decide it's probably out of his reach, and he's 16 months old.

"9-1-1 Collin County, what is your emergency?"

Emily walks up from the front of our house.

"Hi, yeah, I locked my son in the car, and he's in the sun. He's... (how old is Jackson?! he's not two yet...) he's 16 months."

"We're sending someone right away."

Emily has come to keep me company and immediately reassures me that, yes, she too has done this and, no, no one took her to jail and charged her with neglect, and yes, she was allowed to keep her kids. Curtis comes over with some tools and tells me that he has also called 9-1-1, in the distance we hear sirens. I groan. They may as well be announcing over a loud speaker that they're heading to rescue a baby from his idiot mother who obviously cannot handle a toddler.

Terri appears from around the corner of the house and introduces herself to Emily and Curtis. She reassures me that she too has done this and that if they take Jackson away from me, she'll be sure to request a relative placement. I tell her that she's been waiting for an opportunity like this. We're both joking and it feels good to laugh despite the stress.

The firefighters arrive. Thank God.

Two of them start prying open the front door, one of them tries all the handles (how embarrassing would that have been?!), and another starts filling out paperwork.

"Ma'am, did they tell you that we aren't liable for any damage done to your car?"

I don't tell him that I'm about 2 seconds from taking a hammer and beating in the window myself.

"As long as ya'll get my son out, I really don't care." I say, and mean it. I say a silent prayer, thanking God that it is March, not July.

Click. The firefighters unlock the car. I apologize as I shove past one of them to open the door and grab Jackson out of his car seat. He is hot! His face is pink and his back is sweaty. Terri takes him to go look at the fire truck, as I sign a piece of paper saying that I won't sue the city if my car is damaged. It probably also says something requiring me to appear at Lowe's within the next 30 days to have a duplicate key made.

It doesn't end there.

"Can I see your kitchen?" Asks Emily. I... uhhh... Steven painted the kitchen a few weeks ago.

"Sure" I respond, opening the front door, only to be met by our chain, that I forgot to unlatch before leaving in the first place. Dang it.

"Curtis!" calls Emily, trying to get him to come over and help-

BOOM!!

I throw my body against the door and rip the chain and a 36-inch piece of the trim out of the wall. I am tired of asking everyone else for help this afternoon. It's the Navy wife still inside of me.

"You go girl!" says Emily, and gives me a high-five.

We eventually make it to Target, no one asks me if I should really have custody of that adorable little boy. I even stop him from hurling a fist full of spaghetti at the next table during dinner.

Yep. Glad that's over.