Ice Cream and Deadbolts

Ya’ll this afternoon was hot. Like you better inhale that Bomb Pop now before your face looks like a scary ass clown kind of hot. Luckily O was at camp this afternoon, so I just had M and C to cart around. It’s amazing how being one kid down feels like a mini vaca! Target was kind of a breeze.  I could’ve spent an entire day and salary just looking around, but I could tell I was on a very limited time frame with the girls and we still had to go pick up the dog at the groomers.  I love it when Georgia, our dog, gets groomed. One she smells way better and two she looks like a very cute shaved Ewok. When we got home from all our errands, the girls were begging to go outside and play in their ridiculously awesome playhouse.  Thanks again mom and dad. By this time of day it’s in the shade so I said go ahead. I needed to get some things ready for dinner anyway and it would be nice to do so without toddlers ridding on my legs like a couple of koalas. Although my calf muscle are looking tight lately.  

After a few minutes I realized that things were too quite. You know what I mean? Kind of like when all the birds stop chirping when a big storm is near.  So naturally I dropped everything and sprinted outside to see what they were doing. Well M decided that the house needed a little face lift or she thought she was the next Van Goh.  She colored the entire side of our brown house, including the door, with bright blue chalk. I have to admit for the time she had unsupervised she covered a lot of ground.

“Why did you color the house?” I asked.

“What?” she looked at me with giant innocent eyes and a bright blue hand. 

“Chalk stays on the ground only!” I said raising my voice and trying to keep my cool.

I told her to go into the house, which she was not pleased about at all. She started to melt down and asked for her binky, for like the billionth time and of course I said no, yet again. Side note, this is day 2 of no binky.  (Prayers and gin are welcomed.) She glared at me with those mischievous beautiful brown eyes and slammed the door. I drug the water hose out and sprayed the blue Smurf massacre off the house. C found all this quite amusing and cheered for me. When I was done I picked her up and smelled a very ripe diaper. Great it’s all over my arm. I go to walk into the house and run into the door, smack! It’s locked….

I knock on the door and loudly call for M, “Unlock the door please!”

So our back door is in a small hallway between our bedroom and the living room.  I can see most of each room. She comes strolling casually around the corner of the living room, smiles almost as if she’s surprised to see me and shakes her head no.

“Open. The. Door. Now.” I repeat sternly.

She considers my request and tries to unlock it. After a few failed attempts she successfully unlocks the bottom lock, but to my surprise she had somehow managed to lock the dead bolt above as well. Well Crap.  I finally gave up trying to point out and describe the dead bolt to her. Well mostly because she got tired and walked away from me. 

So I ran over to the next door neighbors house hoping they still had a key to our house. Not home.  Ran across the street to our other neighbors’ house.  Not home. Shit. No literally, C had gone again.  I was reaching desperation.  It was 102 degrees out, I’m barefoot and this diaper can’t hold much more. Third times a charm right? Luckily it was.  Our other neighbor was thankfully home and let us in to use her phone.  Thank goodness I knew my husband’s phone number. Ah voicemail. Well I expected that I guess.  I don’t pick up when I don’t know the number either.  Now I was just praying that he listens to the voicemail and doesn’t decided to go run errands after he picks up O. 

I thanked my neighbor and ran back over to the house.  Out of all my kids I knew M would be the least panicked about being alone.  And I was totally right.

I got back into the backyard with C and went up to the door.  I looked in and didn’t see or hear M anywhere.  So I knocked… and knocked again.  Then I see her.  She is sitting on the floor with a fist full of ice cream, in front of the door. A half-gallon bucket of mint chocolate chip ice cream is sitting securely between her legs.

“M!” I yelled. “Put that away now!” I like how I thought I had any control in this situation what so ever.  I’m cute like that. 

“No.” she retorted calmly.  Then she got up calmly with the ice cream and walked into my bedroom. Then back into my bathroom, turns and faces me with a chocolaty smile and oh so sticky hands and slams the French doors to the bathroom shut. 

I stand there for a moment full of rage and then I start laughing.  Well at least I know she is eating the ice cream on the tile now.  I embrace the moment.  I know M is safe, I mean there is at least half of that container left.  That will take her awhile.  I strip down C to nothing and wash her off with the hose.  She thinks this is all hilarious and wonderful.  My kind neighbor stops by with a cold bottle of water and encouragement. 

“This is a hard time in motherhood! You’re fine!” she said kindly.

Damn. She is right! So I sit myself down, crack open a nice cold water (in my head it was beer) and sat there spraying my naked baby with a hose until my husband came home.