The Lockout Luck-Out

Because of my husband's insane work shift and schedule, and the time he spends sleeping as a result, I see him for a total of about 12 to 14 hours a week lately. That might sound like a decent amount, but considering there are actually 168 hours in a week, it's not so good. Plus when I say "see" my husband I mean just that: see him. See does not equal spend quality time with. See means, like, chatting with him briefly from the bathroom counter while he takes a dump (and simultaneously plays with his iPhone, which considerably lessens the quality of the interaction). So a lot of times, I feel like a single mother. With a sugar daddy. Who comes over to poop and sleep.

Seeing as I'm on my own with the kids most of the time, I have to figure out methods of improvising some of the household duties. Like taking the dog outside. It has to be done - there's no alternative - but I hate leaving the kids in the house, especially when Josie is taking her sweet time ... like she did the other day.

The baby was content in his bouncy seat and the older two were playing a computer game, so I thought it would be a good time to slip out with the dog. Josie thought it would be a good time, too ... to leap through dandelions and chase her tail and nip at her leash. And to sniff every. Single. Blade. Of Grass. (Seriously, someone enlighten me: when the world is your toilet, why does it take for-freakin-ever to find a suitable place to pee?) After what seemed like an eternity, she finally went, and we headed back to the house.

Our front door is flanked by windows on both sides, and I could see Cameron standing at one of them, one hand raised toward the doorknob.

Oh no he didn't, I thought.

I heard the doorknob jiggling.

Oh no he didn't! I thought. I reached for the knob.

Oh yes he did. The door? Was locked.

First I was mad, until I realized that Cameron most likely locked it on accident. He doesn't quite understand how it works ... just that there are fun little buttons and latches to turn. But then it dawned on me that he wouldn't know how to deliberately unlock it, either. Okay, so don't panic, I told myself. Colin's in there, and he knows how to unlock the door. So I knocked.

Cameron ran away.

Colin was nowhere to be seen.

So I pounded. With both fists. Then I rang the doorbell.

... And rang it. And rang it. And raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang it.

No Colin. No Cameron. No magic-door-unlocking fairy. Just me, standing on my front porch with the dog, pounding on my own door like some sort of idiot. As I was beating the door with both fists like a crazed gorilla standing there, I could hear my own voice in my head, replaying a conversation I'd had many times with Colin. If the doorbell ever rings and Mommy's not able to answer it - like, if I'm in the shower or something - you never, EVER answer it yourself, I had sternly warned him. Don't even go to the door to see who it is. Just pretend nobody's home.

Great. I should have added an "unless-Mommy-is-outside-with-the-dog-and-your-little-brother-locks-the-door" clause. But too late; Colin wasn't coming to the door (it figures this would be the one damn time when he actually does something I tell him to do). So I gave up on the doorbell-ringing and headed around to the basement door. I already knew the other exterior doors would be locked too, because I always keep them that way - but I had to try anyway.

Yep. Just as I thought, the back door was firmly latched. No use knocking on that one, either. My last resort was the door on our deck, but it was pretty much guaranteed to be locked because Cameron's always trying to open it. As I trudged unhappily up the steps, I wondered what the hell to do. I mean, someone with more common sense, someone whose three small children weren't locked alone inside the house, might have had a good solution - but I was panicking a little bit, y'all. Should I break a window? Go get my neighbor and see if he has some sort of idea? Why can't I be one of those people who just automatically knows what to do, all the time, about everything?

By the time I reached the door, I was really starting to get upset. I pictured the kids inside, doing what they do best: getting into mischief while I'm not looking. There would inevitably be a huge mess, or a huge accident. They would -- holy shit, the door opened!

You can imagine my relief as I turned the knob and the deck door swung open. I'm serious when I say it's almost never unlocked, so I'm counting this as some sort of miracle. And the second miracle of the day? The kids were unfazed, intact, and hadn't made any messes. Win.

I think from now on I'll, like, keep a key attached to the dog's collar or something. You know, just in case.

*The winner of the Perricone MD giveaway was announced yesterday - congratulations to Aleta! I'll be posting a really fun giveaway within the next couple of days, so stay tuned!*