So, last night after writing my blog, I went to take the trash and recyling down to the curb. This is where my terrifying, albeit humorous crisis began. I went through the garage, carefully closing the door from the garage to the house behind me so that Simba couldn't escape. (He doesn't seem to understand that he is an indoor cat.) I walk back upto the door, and low and behold. It's locked. Immediately, I am angry and terrified and in a complete state of "holy shit, what am i going to do?" shock. I know the front door is also locked. I am not wearing a bra. I don't have my keys. I don't have my phone. Without my phone, I don't even know Delmo and Sabrina's numbers. Not that they'd really have been able to do much. Neither of them is adept at breaking and entering. Over and over I tried to open the door by nudging, and I say nudging because it really hurt to do it too hard, the door open. Nada. I take a bobby pin out of my hair and try to pick the lock. Nada. I even lost the little plastic end bits in the lock. (great, something else to fix.) So I sit, on the steps from the door into the garage and try to figure out how to break into my own house. Sitting out in the garage was not an option. Taylor was asleep upstairs. A million thoughts run through my head. Is there anything in Adam's car? Could a neighbor help me somehow? My upstairs bedroom windows are open. Could a neighbor help me set up the giant stepladder and I could climb through one of those windows? I check Adam's car.
Nada. I take a flashlight (thank you adam for having one...not something I would have thought to have. But I should.) and go around to the only window on the bottom floor that opens. I know it's closed, because it's been pretty cold; but I feel like I could break in. Or at least, I could muscle it open and break the locking mechanism. (yah, right.) It's almost midnight, and I'm not wearing a bra and hadn't even showered yesterday, so asking a neighbor was the last thing I wanted to do.
The window is a sliding one, that locks automatically as it is closed. So I, flashlight in mouth, feeling as MacGyver as I could with no bra on and breaking into my own house, pry the screen off without damaging it. I then sigh as I see the window is closed and attempt to open it.
I don't know why but if I've ever been lucky, it was yesterday. I should have played the lottery. The window was shut, but not all the way. So it wasn't locked. It opened as easily as if I was opening it on a beautiful spring day. But it wasn't a beautiful spring day. It was midnight, and I was breaking into my own house. One problem remained. Actually getting into the window was presenting a challenge. The bottom of the window is slightly above my head, and so I had to go back and get our small stepladder to get into the window. Adam wanted to throw it away, and thank god I convinced him not to.
I am truly amazed at the series of events, and coincidences, and dare I say, pure luck in last night's events. It was definitely an eye opener to me. Learn phone numbers, or write them down and keep them out there or in the car. Hide a key. Close your windows thoroughly. All of this, and all I could think about was Taylor upstairs and how I needed to be there in the morning.
It's something that I must say shakes me to my core every single day. When I put her to bed every night, while she is drinking her bottle and drifting closer to dream land safely in my arms, I have mayter-mares. Taylor nightmares. Pure, terrifying fears. I don't know why it's then, or why it's daily; but I am so so scared of her being taken away I can hardly breathe sometimes. Taken away by a bad man, or hurt by a bad man, or hit by a car, or falling down the stairs, or choking on a bit of hot dog, or lately- falling off the cruise ship and drowning. Or honestly, just being unhappy or unsafe or me being able to protect her from all of these things every second of the day. In my entire life, I've never been so scared of anything. And believe me, a spider or two has given me a run for my money.
Am I crazy, I wonder sometimes. Do all moms have such a paranoia? I truly treasure her every second she is here. I feel like every moment is a gift, and I really hope that I can let go of some of this fear and that putting it on my blog will be therapeutic like it is to talk about how I feel about adam being gone.
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