The hero of the day.

by statia on July 28, 2010

The Meester is away on business this week (don’t go trying to break in.  I have attack dogs and a super mega alarm system.  With lasers), which means, I’m playing single mom until tomorrow.  Seriously, dudes.  Single parents?  I could be here all day like, sainthood, blah blah, deserve an award, blah blah, how do you manage to survive?

First off, the Mini and his lack of napping, and being a three -year-old asshole is pushing me to my very limit.  I took one look at the disaster that was my house, said “fuck it.”  And went to my mom’s.  That was about 25 minutes after the Meester left for the airport.  It worked out well, because my parents had to put their dog down this week, and for them, it was like losing a child.  What’s ironic, is that it was my sister’s dog, brought home by an ex-boyfriend, who somehow managed to not get killed by my parents, who never wanted a dog in the first place.   As it goes, the dog, a big mushy, yet fiercely loyal doberman (as they are), became my parents dog, and my father’s best friend.   His death was very sudden and both of them are left to process the death.  So I brought the kids and my two attack dogs as a diversion for everyone.   I had help, they had something to pet, everyone wins.

But, obligations forced me to have to come back home and deal with it by myself.   This is hard for me, because, as my friends point out often, I am very spoiled.  Majority of the time, the Meester works from home.  Also?  He’s the one that does all of the cooking.

I got up this morning, checked the email, while the kids played.  The dogs were up my ass about going out to pee.  Like, really?  You hold it for a million hours, what’s ten more minutes?   So I let them outside, while the kids are upstairs playing quietly, and start watering the garden, only to get up stairs and realize, that I didn’t open the bar all the way when I let the dogs out, and I’m locked out of the house.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I’m on the phone with the Meester, and we’re trying to figure out how I can either find some sort of hanger or something that I can squeeze through the 1/2 inch opening I left in the sliding glass door.

Him: Can you get in through the garage?   Or maybe a window?

Me: I keep this house like fort knox when you’re gone.

I take a chance and call out to the Mini.   Who, hi, I don’t know if you know this, but he has language processing issues?  I never quite know what he understands?   Now, there’s only 1/2 an inch crack in the door, so I can basically stick my lips against it and call out to him, but I can barely hear him.  I hold my breath and ask him to do something that can go one of two ways:  bad, or really really bad.

Me: Baby?  I’m locked out of the house.  I need you to climb over the gate and come downstairs, please.

Him: Mama?   I need you to open the gate.

Me: Baby, I can’t open the gate, I’m stuck outside on the deck.  Can you climb over the gate?

Him: (Freaking out)  MAMA, I CAN’T DO IT.  I NEED HELP.

Me: (oh Jesus, what the fuck am I about to do…) Baby, can you get the stool from the bathroom to help you over the gate?

Him: Ok, Mama.

Me: Are you able to climb over?

Him: I’m coming!  Here I come, down the stairs.

I see him come around the corner, looking for me.  I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Him: Mama, where are you?

Me: I’m on the deck.   I need you to open the door for me.  The bar fell down.

It took him a couple of minutes to get him to understand, but he managed and bailed my stupid ass out.

I will never underestimate the mind of a three year old ever again.

{ 15 comments }

bitca July 28, 2010 at 9:16 pm

omg–he’s such a smart little guy! That’s such a great story. :D

Yo-yo Mama July 28, 2010 at 10:09 pm

You know you are totally screwed in the future if he knows where you store the stool, right?

Veronica July 29, 2010 at 6:48 am

He is awesome!

Although, now he knows he can climb the gate….

statia July 29, 2010 at 6:55 am

Yeah, that’s why I contemplated even asking him to do that, but I had no other options.

Shelly July 29, 2010 at 8:04 am

Been there, done that. Nothing sucks like being at the mercy of your child, the very one that you’ve just been “mean” to all morning long. Karma?

jennyalice July 29, 2010 at 11:12 am

I have a fear I will get locked out on my top deck, luckily my younger child has better fine motor skills than I do, so as long as she’s home I should be okay.
Glad you were able to get back in, sorry your kid now knows how to escape!

Tommie July 29, 2010 at 1:52 pm

Go Mini!

Faith July 29, 2010 at 3:39 pm

I bet that move earned him some big hugs and kisses, eh? :D

Shelly, I locked myself out of my apartment in Boston once, and had to rely on the help of a roommate that I didn’t get along with at all. He was very gracious and helpful after all the stern parent-like comments I had for him during our months together! So here’s to hoping your kid won’t hold the “mean” moments against you, either. Hehehe!

Stimey July 29, 2010 at 11:10 pm

Oh, I can just imagine your face when you realized you were locked out with your kids inside.

I guess now you have to get a new stairs barrier, huh?

jenG July 30, 2010 at 7:37 am

Aw. Way to go, Mini!

mrs spock July 30, 2010 at 8:09 am

Go Mini! Mr S is away on business this week ( I, too, have a loaded shotgun), and I am finding I am very spoiled too, as he does most of the physical tasks in this house. When The Boy broke out in hives yesterday and I had to run to urgent care, and the spent the night awake watching my son breathe, I was also bowing in honor to all the single moms who do it without help. Not worthy!

Mina July 30, 2010 at 9:31 am

Awesome. My son sleeps like the dead so I would have had to wait til he actually decided to roll out of bed (our bed that is). Of course me, I just send my son to let the dog out…

Blue August 1, 2010 at 4:49 pm

Oh, the irony is delicious. Great story. (Sorry for the chuckle at your expense.)

Stacia August 3, 2010 at 1:27 pm

Yay for three-year-olds who save the day! (Even when there’s a**holes.)

PS: So sorry to hear about your parents’ dog. Pets have a way of getting into our hearts and settling down there, even when we don’t think we want them to.

Jennifer August 6, 2010 at 9:30 am

I can TOTALLY relate… I locked myself out once when I let our dogs out. I was in my bathrobe… with nothing on underneath. I had to get a ladder (that thankfully my partner didn’t put away) and climb through a window…

I may have scarred my back neighbor’s retinas for life with my lady bits.

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