The One With the Minor Emergency

Let me tell you about what happened to me last Tuesday.
You see, I was trying to be superwoman (which always fails) during morning naptime. The girls were stirring in their beds, about to wake up, and I was trying to ridiculously multi-task while I had my hands free.

These are the things I was doing:
-laundry
-cooking a sauce for that night's crockpot meal
-watching the news
-spray painting picture frames in the garage

We have an attached garage right outside our kitchen. I stirred the sauce, then went into the garage to add another coat of spray paint. Back and forth, back and forth, adding a coat, then running back inside to stir the sauce. "Hmm, this butter isn't melting fast enough" I thought, as I turned the stove up to medium. I went into the garage and did another coat of paint. I turned the knob to go back inside the house, but the door was locked.

Yes. I locked myself outside of my house, with my babies inside of the house, with something now on the stove. I still don't know how the little lock button got pushed, but it did. Begin panic mode.

I didn't cry, which in retrospect is very surprising. I paced in my garage for a few seconds, then went into action. My only comforting thought was that the babies were safe inside their cribs, not getting into anything. (Which was partially negated by visions of my sauce exploding into flames.) My next door neighbor is a locksmith! Hooray! Easy fix. I ran over there and his mother answered the door. She was an older lady, full of southern sweetness.

"Is Johnny home?" I asked.
"No, he's not, I'm sorry."
Aw crap.
"Um, well, can you help me? I locked myself out of my house and my two babies are inside. I also have something on the stove. Can I please use your phone?"
"Oh Lord Jesus, Yes!!! Come in child!!!" she proclaimed.
I was beginning to like her already.
"The phone's right here. Please excuse all this mess."
The house was immaculate.

I had never been inside this neighbor's house before, so as I dialed my husband's number, I couldn't help but look around and take everything in. This woman was perfectly neat too, with manicured nails, a neat bun, and wearing a cute jean dress. At that point, I realized what a mess I looked like. I was wearing what I had slept in (sweats and a t-shirt), hadn't showered, and wasn't even wearing shoes. Then it hit me.
 "Omigosh I'm so sorry that I'm not wearing a bra!!!" I blurted out.
"Oh honey, ain't nobody lookin' at that."
Phew.

I really can't believe that I said that to a perfect stranger, but she had this grandma-esque quality to her that made me feel at ease. Plus, I was clearly not thinking rationally. Oh well. My husband works only a few minutes away, so he could come back and open the door for me in a jiffy. I thanked her for letting me use the phone, keeping my distance as I had also realized that I had not yet brushed my teeth that morning.

I ran back to my house and pressed my ear against the door to hear if the babies were crying/smell if my house was on fire. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a miracle! My keys, in the seat of my car! I had somehow left them in the seat of the car from a previous trip! Relief rushed over me. I grabbed the keys, unlocked the door, and found my sauce mildly bubbling. The babies were happily chattering in their beds to each other.

I would say this whole ordeal lasted 5-10 minutes, but it felt like an hour at the time. I feel as though locking yourself out of your house without your children is some sort of "mom rite of passage".  And if so, I would like my merit badge now.

Life lesson learned; always hide a spare key somewhere!