Father's Day 2011

Paul was working, the kids and I had just gotten home from church. The big kids decided to play outside, and a few minutes later Noah asked me to help him turn off the hose. I stepped outside to help, it only took about 45 seconds. And then Noah said, "Mom, the door's locked."

"No it's not" I said.

Um yes. It was. Avery had locked us out. And herself in.

No, she's never tried this before, never even touched the locks before (she stood on the stairs and turned the deadbolt for crying out loud)!

I've got no keys. No phone. No husband. And for a minute there, no clue what to do.

Yes I was panicing a little - my very accident prone toddler was trapped in the house ALONE.

So. I sent Noah about three blocks up the hill (never done that before) to our friends house to get help. Waited for what felt like forever, only to have him come back alone - they weren't home. Sent him back up the hill and in the opposite direction to another friends house, and we got lucky. She was just getting home.

Carolyn drove down with her kids and Noah (her husband was at work too, a fellow anesthesia resident) and we attempted to page Paul at work. Attempted, because in my frazzled state...I couldn't remember his pager code. Yes I am serious.

So Carolyn paged her husband, filled him in, and he went to find Paul for us.

More waiting.

Jeff called back and informed us that Paul was in the middle of a major trauma.

SO AM I!! I screamed. But he let Paul know what was going on, got the combo to his locker, and went to get the keys. Carolyn left the kids with me and drove to the hospital to collect them.

Meanwhile, I can no longer hear Avery through the door. So we all headed for the back, to see if we could see her through the sliding glass door.

We could see her alright. ON TOP OF THE KITCHEN TABLE. Feeding herself the kids leftover cereal from breakfast that morning.

So my baby is on the kitchen table which is now slippery and wet with spilled milk. It just keeps getting better.

I start yelling through the glass, trying to talk her down. And she gets right up to the edge and teeters there for awhile.

And this is where I had a serious anxiety attack.

For the next 10 minutes, things were pretty precarious and as I'm coaching Avery on getting down from the table I'm simultaneously looking for something I can use to smash through the sliding glass door - because it looks like she's going to fall on her head any minute.

Luckily, she did not. She got herself safely down...and then started mopping the floor. Or smearing soggy cereal and milk all over the kitchen floor.

I stayed by the door and tried to keep her attention so she wouldn't leave my sight. A couple of times I had to yell at her NOT to get back onto the table. She obeyed.

And finally FINALLY Carolyn (our rescuer!) arrived with the keys.

And my baby was safely back in my arms.

All told, Avery spent about 1 hour 10 minutes alone in the house that afternoon. It felt a whole lot longer to me...

And I held it together for about another half hour, when suddenly I'm feeding Avery mac&cheese and bawling my eyes out.

But to understand that, I should back up just a little. That afternoon was simply the final straw in a series of unfortunate events.

It started a couple of weeks ago, when Paul was out of town and I was concerned about a possible gas leak in my home and had to call a friend at 10pm to come and check it out for me. Nope, not a gas leak. Nope, not telling what it actually was. (Bumans, if you tell, I'll tell the dishwasher story!)

About a week later there was Avery's crash into the brick fireplace, again Paul was out of town, and I had to call a friend to come and check her out. No she didn't need stitches or anything at all really. But how was I to know, I mean her face was bleeding?!?

Then Father's Day.

If there is a moral to this story (other than that Avery is crazy, I am crazy, and we are all crazy) it's that I am surrounded by amazing friends. Friends who drop everything at a moments notice, no matter the time of day or night, to help us. Friends who don't make me feel stupid when the gas leak isn't really a gas leak, my baby doesn't really need medical attention, and I get locked out of my house by a 19 month old.

We've lived far away from family for almost our entire married life. My husband is gone a lot. But I don't feel alone. I feel blessed.

And yes, sometimes crazy. Like 2 days ago when Avery climbed onto a kitchen chair and then fell off and landed on her head, and even today, when she fell down the stairs. Again.

On a more positive note, I made Paul a killer Key Lime Pie on Father's Day : )