Since E’s Daddy has started going away for work, I’ve started noticing a definite move in his favouritism between the parents – where I used to somewhat get a bit more of the love and adoration (probably thanks to me being the one who made dinner, to be fair), since we’ve started having a whole lot more one-on-one time he’s rapidly gotten rather bored of me. His reaction to Granny dropping him off after a sleepover at hers the other day was to freak out at the thought of being left alone with me. Harsh, kid, harsh. You need a thick skin to parent toddlers, that’s for sure. It’s so damn easy to be made feel like the Worst Mammy On The Planet (trademark pending) by someone just higher than two feet tall. This week though, I think I may have earned a little bit of the wrath.
We live in a lovely apartment complex which is gated and secure and has more codes to get into it than Fort Knox. Unfortunately, that means that when the robots do occasionally go rogue and start refusing to accept the codes, it can become quite difficult to gain access to our apartment. This was my discovery on Sunday evening when, of course, the property management were out of office, leaving me to gain access through the (needing multiple codes) carpark, so it was no surprise when the postman started gesturing in the window for me to open the door for him. I was getting E ready to head to the shop before he was to head off for the day with his Granny, for a day of fun with his best friend, Coco the dog, so he was all set (apart from shoes) to go. Strapped into the buggy, I decided to leave him in the kitchen momentarily while I went out to open the door. Being a good tenant, a nice person, helping the postman do his job.
I may have been being a nice person, but I hadn’t had coffee and my brain wasn’t working quite as well as it could be. I’m going to use the excuse that my sleep pattern and pain meds are completely messed up this week so I’d not slept since 4.30 the previous afternoon and had been entertaining a toddler since 6.11am. Stupid choices were made. Stupid choices like not bringing the child into the hallway. Stupid choices like not bringing my keys with me. When we’ve got a door that locks and slams shut after you. This I realised two seconds after it slammed shut.
FUCK. Panic stations.
I ran out to the hallway and let the postman in. Sure, if I had managed to lock the toddler inside and made shite of my morning, I might as well get the good karma for being a nice person and letting the others in the building get their post. Karma did not shine upon me in the form of a random cheque worth millions in my name or other such niceness. Panic started properly kicking in.
Not only was the child strapped into the buggy, but because it was morning and our hallway is dark, he was staring into nothingness and to him, being ignored by me. His natural response was to roar. Loudly. Like “I’m-being-attacked” loudly. Shit.
I mentioned my plight to the postman. He didn’t look too phased until I pointed out that the 18 month old was alone. He started to panic too. It was 8.20am, chances were the management company were unlikely to be in the office yet. The roar was getting louder. In my head, neighbours were calling child services.
I ran up the drive to the office, first of all trying the patio door which I seem to be terrible at remembering to lock. Not that morning, oh no. Our apartment was impermeable. With a toddler held as prisoner screaming blue murder. To make matters worse, the running wasn’t the easiest of activities given what has now been diagnosed as a throat and chest infection had set in so things like breathing were a bit more difficult. It never rains but it pours.
I ring the doorbell on the intercom. No answer. Office is locked up with no lights on. Shit.
A car pulls up, a man gets out. It seems he works here. I explain my case to him. He sees my panic, and realises he hasn’t a clue where the spare key is, and has no mobile on him. He manages to get in contact with someone else on an office phone; they say the key is in their office. He exits their office with a key in hand, saying that it is the only key there. Right so, that must be it.
We walk back down quickly through the carpark. He makes a comment about how it’s likely the child has fallen asleep and I’ve nothing to worry about. Before we open the firedoor on our corridor I can hear him roaring. Right, not asleep then. Key goes into lock. Key will not turn. Seems that the only key in the office is not a key which will open my door. FUCK.
At this point I am envisioning having to break down the door. The other key holder is a 12 hour flight away and not due back for nearly two weeks; not exactly an easy rush home to help out. Office man says he’ll head back to look for another key. I start trying to reassure now hysterical toddler through the door. He is not amused by the fact that he can hear me through the door, after initial silence the roaring gets louder and starts to notably be to “Dadaaaaaaaaa”. Mama is clearly not deemed able to do any rescuing it seems. He’s not wrong, at that moment of time I was feeling rather shit at my job to be fair. I started thinking about those stories I’d read about parents locking their babies into cars and my thought process went “Well, at least they could bloody see them to make sure they’re okay! I don’t have a glass door! Anything could be happening!” (I’m not saying these are the thoughts of a sane woman. Panic does strange things to me). I consider singing through the door but think my neighbours may not appreciate a rendition of the Wheels On The Bus duetting with complete screaming.
Days go past. Seasons change. In actual fact from the minute I left the apartment less than ten minutes went by but I aged about five years every minute of it. How the hell was I going to explain this one? How was I going to get my baby out? Thankfully before I could make confessional phonecalls to Himself that I’d likely scarred our child for life, leaving him with abandonment issues Office Guy came back, panting, into the corridor. Explaining that it’s been a while since he’s tried any sort of running, he tries another key and VOILA the door opens.
He has never met a more grateful person. I restrained myself from hugging him – he had just done a nice thing, he didn’t need my panicked sweat-covered self any nearer to him.
I run in and give E a big hug. He bawls louder. Oh I’m in the bad books now and I deserve it. I put his shoes on, apologising profusely for being the worst mother on the planet, promising him I’ll never leave him alone again, telling him (and trying to convince myself) that everything is okay. That did a fat load of nothing. Time for Plan B, bribing with Liga.
Works every time. Bad Mammy. Oh well. There are worse vices. Most of them on the other side of a door.
And so that is my tale of how my toddler had a lock in and I had near heart failure.
How has your week been going?
oh feck!
But of course you realise whose fault this is???? Daaaaadddddddddddddddyyyyyyyy!!!
I dunno; his alibi is fairly tight with him being on a different continent…
Oh, you poor things, what an experience. Here, have another Liga. Or maybe a stiff drink.
Stiff drinks aren’t recommended at 8.15am unfortunately . My first coffee of the day was well appreciated, that’s for sure! Thanks for reading 🙂
In a previous house, my husband locked me in on two different occasions by taking my keys and his to work. I had to climb out the front window. Not too big a deal. Except the second time I was heavily pregnant and it took quite a while to squeeze through.
That sounds like a nightmare – the things we can laugh at later but are absolutely nuts at the time!
Oh no what a nightmare. I managed to lock myself out when I was pregnant (out flat was on the 1st floor) so I had to get someone to come out and climb through the window. I would have totally reacted like you if my little one got locked in.
Oh god that sounds horrific enough! Glad you managed to get someone to come out!
Oh my goodness! This happened to me too 10 years ago! I lived in the middle of nowhere at the time, I’d gone outside to put the rubbish bag out and the door slammed. My toddler was alone in the house, my partner was at work, my neighbour wasn’t home. I had no phone. I had to smash a window to get in. Thankfully I was only out of the house 10 minutes but that was longest 10 minutes of my life! My son hadn’t even noticed I was gone and was still glued to the T.V, where I left him but my god, did I panic. I then spent an hour on the phone to my mum bawling my eyes out about how I was the worst mother ever. And the landlord fixed the window straight away for free. I laugh at it now but at the time… Gosh.
(I hope you didn’t mind me sharing my long story – just know you are not alone! This happens to other people, too)
So glad you managed to get back in and everything IS ok. You are not a bad mummy. Bless you and your bubba. I bet your bubba has forgotten all about it by now. I also hope your week gets better! Mine has been chaotic so far. xx
Oh wow – yours sounds even more stressful, at least I had the property management crowd to let me in so no window smashing required – thankfully your landlord seemed very understanding! Thanks for sharing your tale, safety in numbers! I hope your week gets better from here!
Oh NOOOOOOO! The poor little guy, poor you! Thankfully E is at an age is has probably completely forgotten about it and all.
Fingers crossed – I live in fear of him in therapy in his teen years with abandonment issues – the guilt! Blood pressure just about regulated a few days later!
I’m quite exhausted after reading that, I can’t imagine how you felt the whole time.I hope your little one is recuperating after his ordeal and you’ve had a well deserved gin.Here’s to to a better week x
No alcohol thanks to medication I’m on – could have done with a stiff drink at the time. Have calmed down now and he seems to have forgotten – but never again will I go anywhere without sellotaping my keys to my body! Thanks for reading, have a really great week!
Oh no! Thats sounds like a very stressful day! Don’t feel bad, he will not remember it and will certainly not need teenage therapy!
I really hope so! Definitely earned my coffee that morning and he got extra guilt cuddles that evening…
Aw bless you sometimes children are often our harshest critics and it can be difficult to let their comments go. Your home sounds lovely but what a pain to get locked out!
Absolutely – while I’m glad it’s so secure I could have done with it being a bit lax for once!!
Wow! must be really stressful. its difficult for having lack of sleep, hard to concentrate. And being lock out of my own house I have done that so many times. Gosh i would literary have a panic attack as well when a kid got lock inside. I’m sure kids will forget about it. And you deserve a break perhaps have some tea or paint your nails if your having one of those bad day moments.
I did really enjoy my calming coffee afterwards – oh the silly things that happen before coffee in the morning! Alls well that ends well though, and you’re right, I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it (hopefully) – I just know I won’t be forgetting in a hurry! Thanks for reading!
I know this panic only to well. I locked my son at 6 weeks old inside the car at Tesco carpark. Ended up getting the fire brigade there it was a night mare. I totally feel you panic. xx
Oh wow that sounds like a serious nightmare – so scary! Glad it worked out well in the end but I’d say we have a few more grey hairs because of moments like these! Thanks for reading and sharing your tale!
What an ordeal! I can only imagine how stressful it must be being in that situation. I’ve managed to lock myself out of my house a few times but nothing near as bad as this!
I’d done it a few times in older houses but that was always a case of ringing housemates and getting them to come home and let me in, nothing like this so the panic was unreal – all over now though and lesson learned! Thanks for reading!
Oh love, this is very funny! And I’m glad it all turned out well in the end. I totally feel you on this one though as once I locked my 1 year old in the car WITH the car keys … I happened to be parked in the middle of nowhere at the time too so it took some time to resolve that one!
Great post.
Anna x
Oh no, that sounds horrific. It seems most of us have had these moments which is a slight relief, but we’re definitely not the better for the heart attack it caused at the time! Hope yours didn’t take too long to resolve, my little brother was a divil for locking the keys in the car!
This sound stressful! I live on the 3rd floor and have to go outside our flat to put on electric, gas or throw out rubbish. I generally grab my keys JUST IN CASE the door shuts. The Princess would probably open it for me but I’m scared she would panic and not. I feel for you, I honestly do but don’t worry, these things happen and worse things can also happen xxx
Oh my goodness – I nearly had heart failure reading this – my worst fear! Thank goodness it all turned out ok. I have so many ‘phew that was close’ moments – this makes me realise things like this can happen! Kaz x
They definitely make the coffee that follows taste all the sweeter – am now sellotaping my keys to me at all times! Thanks for reading!
Oh bless your heart! This sounds like something that would happen to me. Glad everything worked out in the end. You’re not a bad mummy though. A bad one would have popped to the pub for a pint while thanking their lucky stars for the peace and quiet 😉
Louise x
Hahahahaha I think I was in need of a pint to calm the heart rate but I made the most of little boy cuddles instead! Thanks for the vote of confidence 🙂