My Hubby has been away for the better part of the week. I’m not ashamed to admit this has made me a little extra tired, perhaps a tad more frazzled than usual. My hat is off to single mothers everywhere. Looking after two girls, a house, a dog, a cat and everything in between all by myself? This is no easy task. The extra coffee was not keeping me going.
I had just finished dropping off BlueEyes at gymnastics and SweetGirl at dance. A less then thrilling 1 1/2 hour round trip event on a gloomy rainy afternoon. Pulled into my driveway and was ready to enjoy my first few minutes of down time all week. Stuck my key in the door and shake, shake. Wiggle, wiggle. Huh? No matter WHAT I did, that house key was not going to open the front door. A small curse may have escaped my lips. You see, for weeks I have been complaining to Hubby that the front door lock was on the super sticky side. Something was not quite right with that old lock. Now here I was, standing outside in the rain locked out of my very own house! Oh, and did I mention, I really had to pee? Darn Grande Chi Tea Latte!
Not easily defeated, I did what any self sufficient Mama in my circumstances would do. Texted my man. “Great. The door is stuck and I’m locked out. Thanks a LOT”. You know, because this healthy kind of passive aggressive behaviour will get him to appear out of thin air from Chicago and save me. I then took a deep breather and started my search of the perimeter.
Made it around the back of the house, rattling doors and shaking windows on the way. Why oh why had I chosen to wear my gorgeous fashion before function boots? Dodged dog poop
why had this not been cleaned up, through puddles, to the elusive back door. Locked. Damn! My big old black lab was excited to see me through the windows. I usually find her ridiculous tail wagging endearing, at that moment her tail wagging and greeting was just annoying. Seriously, if she wasn’t going to be helpful and open the door she needed to stop with the damn tail wagging and barking.
Back to the car to re-group.
Really have to pee now.
Ahh the garage door. Nope. Broken. More cursing of Hubby’s name under my breath. How has he not fixed this!
Then out of the corner of my eye, a silver glint. My daughters protractor sticking out of her backpack. I know MacGyver could do something with this.
Back out to the house where there was one front window slightly ajar. I took that protractor and started plucking at the window screen. Made myself a little hole big enough to get my fingers through. Did this in three different places and this Mama popped the screen out! HA! Feeling like a super criminal, I easily reached my hand in and rolled open the window. Began to hoist myself up and through that window and paused for the briefest of moments. What if my arse doesn’t fit?? Sent up a little prayer. Oh please don’t let me get stuck in this window with a very full bladder and my butt sticking out to the curb for all the neighbours to see. That is not a 911 call I want to have made.
I wriggled, I huffed, got scratched
realized how out of shaped I was and hoped against hope the neighbours weren’t looking and that my underwear was sticking out of my low rise jeans, cursed, and then I was in! Victory. I broke into my own house.
Small victory. Time to pee and then had to go and pick up my daughters.
The moral of my story, if your locks start to stick, don’t ignore them. Oh, and never underestimate the power of a women armed with a full bladder and a protractor.