You haven’t lived until you get locked in an upstairs bedroom with a 2-month-old and a three-year-old. No phone, no way out. No food for the baby, no diapers, and of course, no ladder.
I was in the middle of giving baths. I was barefoot and scantily clad, having been inside the house all day. We were in ONE’s bedroom, and he was removing his clothes. I turned my back to lay the baby down on the bed for a moment while I helped ONE get undressed, when the unthinkable happened.
ONE locked the door and shut it.
I locked the door, Mommy, he said.
You see … we turned his doorknob around several weeks ago because he kept locking us out of his room. Every time it happened I got so mad that I had trouble unlocking it with the little key that we have above his door. It basically sent me over the edge with rage on a regular basis. I finally asked Husband to turn the knob around so I didn’t have to deal with that drama anymore. So he did.
Now I was trapped with two kids and had no idea what to do.
It was 6 p.m. Husband wasn’t due home until 9. I had an hour until the baby got hungry, and I had nothing to pick the lock with. Not a wire hanger in sight. No tools, nothing. The door was locked tight. And so, I did what made the most sense at the time, and which horrified my mother when I told her the story later.
I removed the screen on the window, left my kids in the bedroom, forbade ONE to move from his spot and hissed at him don’t you dare touch your brother in the scariest mommy voice I could muster.
I climbed out onto the roof, barefoot, and crept to the neighbor’s roof next door. I pounded on their upstairs windows and yelled for help. When no one answered, I proceeded to do the same thing to the next three houses on our row. It quickly became apparent that either no one was home, or they were freaked out and ignoring me. (I KNOW SOMEONE HAD TO HAVE HEARD ME. I AM STILL VERY BITTER ABOUT THIS.)
With that option out, I considered my alternatives:
1. I could break the window to the baby’s room, and gain access to the house from there. However, I was barefoot and really didn’t want to get cut to pieces. There was also the issue of WHAT to break the window with … I considered using a music box that I found in the top of ONE’s closet.
2. I could attempt a death leap to the backyard, or swing down from the roof, but that would rip off our gutter. However, I was worried what would happen if I fell wrong and broke something … which was likely.
3. My final option was to break down the door. With what, I was unsure. I concluded the only thing I could beat it down with was a dresser drawer. I was not thrilled about this.
I mulled it all over. I thought about what would cost more to repair. What would cause me more bodily harm. Looked at the clock and saw 30 minutes had already ticked by. ONE’s eyes were like saucers. No one is coming, he whispered.
Nope. No one.
All I can say about this ridiculous situation I found myself in is, prayer works. I struggled with the doorknob endlessly before praying aloud for the door to open and … it did. This is my testimony. I honestly CANNOT operate in my current role as mother to two boys without His help.
As you may have already deduced, I am no church mouse holy roller. I drink. I don’t church often. I enjoy the occasional swear word. I forget to pray before I eat. I am seriously, honestly, imperfect. However, when I call on Him, he answers. My mother says all the time that God has a special affinity for mothers and children. I believe she is right.
It has been quite a week.