Friday, August 22, 2008

Never EVER underestimate the power of a mistake

::deep breath::

What I literally just experienced has got to be one of the dumbest things I have ever done ( or let happen...let's hope I don't ever get more stupid!).

I could beat myself up for hours and hours, drink myself into a stupor tonight, or go smoke a cigarette- but I won't because right now ::deep breath:: everything is OK. Aside from my brain screaming at me!

What happened? Well, it's something I am sure a few parents have experienced and before I get into all the details I will just say:

"NEVER doubt the intelligence of a two year old."

Trevor is currently sitting on my lap, stealing licks from my peanut butter filled spoon (ULTIMATE short notice comfort food), kicking his feet, and pointing out the "w's" on this screen. He's fine. Lucky.

Me? Still trying to understand why everyone else isn't as freaked out as me.

Alright, alright- I will get to the story already.

Nathan left for work at about 9:30am. I did my computer stuff a little bit, played and sang with Trevor, then decided I was far too greasy to wait to 3pm to take a shower (Trev's nap time).

I put a new movie on, pulled out Trev's box of toys, and told him I was going to take a shower. I left all the doors open, like I normally do. He came into the bathroom, opened and closed the shower doors like he always does, showing me a random toy or whatnot...

Then I turned the water off and grabbed my towel. As I began drying I heard Trevor cry like he was scared or had been scratched by Vince on accident. At this point I noticed all the doors were closed. I shrugged it off, and hollered at Trevor.

"Trevor, come into the bathroom and show me what's wrong."

I never jump up and rush to his aid when he hurts himself or gets scared. My philosophy, and parenting style, is one where the child must realize it's not the end of the world to be injured or surprised and the child must gather their thoughts and wits- then accept the damage. I won't ignore him, just to clarify, but I definitely don't, "AHH! OH my gosh baby are you OK??!?!" When he happens to bump his head on the table.

As I was saying, before my little disclaimer, I asked him to come into the bathroom. When he didn't, I got a little more concerned. Then I heard it...

The rattling of a door handle.

I kind of chuckled because he has locked the bathroom door before, and I explained to him how important it was that he didn't lock it. Then he started screaming, terrified. My heart skipped a beat and I immediately went to the bedroom door. Our bathroom has two entrances (sorry I forgot to mention that earlier) and he LOCKED BOTH DOORS FROM THE INSIDE.

He was pulling on the handles, going back and forth to each door... each time the door didn't open he would get more and more frantic. I attempted to keep my wits. "Grab something to shove in the pin hole and unlock these stupid doors!" I shouted in my head.


God, my heart was in my stomach and I couldn't even keep my hands from shaking. If it were any other kid, or if Trevor weren't pleading with me to open the door, I could have probably run to the kitchen cabinet, grabbed the screwdriver, and popped the door open.

Nope. Couldn't do it. I called Nathan and told him what was going on (in dire hopes he was walking up to our front door because he had finished his morning job)... but he wasn't. He was about a half hour away. He says to call Justun... our boss.

I do. He runs over with a screwdriver and after a few attempts to get the door open- he decides to go to the office to see if they have the stupid special key that opens these stupid locks.

You know? I forgot to mention I AM IN A TOWEL this whole time.

Anyway- the moment Justun walks out the door I break down on the floor. I can't stop sobbing and all I can think of is my terrified son and my dog, locked in the room; and OF COURSE Vince HAD to start whining in this whole situation. I think he was confused and wanted out just as bad as I wanted them out... minus the "terrible parent" feeling.

As I am sobbing I try to tell Trevor to stand on his stool and turn the little knob on the handle. He runs to the other door and screams more. Runs back screams more.

I barely choke out, "Trevor, please, my baby, stand on your stool... turn the knob... unlock the door."

A moment of silence, save my choking.

Door handle turned.

I took a series of deep breaths and opened the door. I grabbed my son and told him I would never, ever, ever let that happen again.

Justun walked through to door and saw Trevor. He kinda chuckled and said to Trevor, "You got out, huh?"

I was clutching my chest trying to get the buzzing in my ears to stop, in the darkened bathroom, in a towel. I finally get the wits to walk out and Justun tells me the maintenance guy had to "go get the key".

With what felt like thirty seconds after I walked out of the bathroom the maintenance guy knocked on the door. He brought a screwdriver. Go get the key my ass.

Then, he proceeds to tell us, "Oh, ya... they usually put the key on the top of the door frame, or back of a shelf..."

He felt around our door frames and sure enough, on top of TREVOR'S door- there is an odd shape of thin metal. Specifically designed to pop open those stupid locks.


I feel like a shitty, shitty mother. Everyone else (Nathan made it home, Justun is here, and Trevor) are all relaxed doing their thing. Watching a movie or making lunch... and I sit here.

Effin frazzled and feeling like crap. I never want to hear that pleading again. THAT cry. That horrible, hopeless, fear induced cry. Worse. Ever.