By the title of this letter, you may have been scared to read on. I can assure you, when it was happening to me I was having a heart attack.
Let me start by saying that we live in an old house. By old, I mean really old — almost 100 years old. We have done lots of renovations and it is shaping up nicely; however, at its core, it is still an old house. Have I mentioned that we are quickly out growing it? Well, we are. But that isn’t really part of the story.
I was in the living room on the main floor, nursing my baby. My fiercely independent three-year old daughter was playing upstairs. I hear her go to the bathroom and shut the door – which she never does. All my children pee with the door open. I don’t even bother anymore as someone is always with me….but I digress.
I know she can’t open the bathroom door — old house. I keep nursing and listening. She went potty and was talking to her baby, Cindy. I hear her try the door and then go back to her baby. She said, “Cindy, the door won’t open. Let’s just wash your hands.” At least Cindy has good hygiene!
Another five minutes go by, she is still talking to her baby. I hear her try the knob again. And again. I wrap things up with the baby and head upstairs. I hear her say, “Mommy, I can’t open it!”
I tried the knob and I couldn’t open it. She locked the door. Panic starts to rise. But then I remember the old skeleton key we have. No worries, I put the baby down and ran to get the key. The baby starts crying. I run back upstairs. I slip the key into the lock and it didn’t fit. The baby is crying louder. Did I mention this was five minutes before I needed to leave to get my oldest from school? Well, it was. Julia is starting to get upset. I tried again and no luck.
I asked her to try from her side and try to tell her it will be OK without any panic in my voice. Baby is crying louder and I could tell that she was getting upset. She kept saying, “Cindy, the door won’t open” “Mommy, I’m trying, I’m trying!”
I start running through my options. The bathroom is on the second floor, do I climb on the roof? No, there is a foot of snow out there. What if I fall? Is the window even unlocked? Baby is now screaming. Do I call the fire department? Who can I call to get my kindergardener? Is my neighbor home? Maybe they can help? Police? Is this 911 worthy? Did I leave my razor in the tub?
I am trying to comfort the baby and check out the lock. I wiggle it with the key. My girl screams, “Mommy, its coming out!!!” Umm, push it back in? I run an grab a screw driver. And I start calling my husband. He won’t answer at work, on his cell, on his work cell. ARRRRGGG!!!
My heart is beating. so. fast. I’m trying really hard not to panic. I take the screw driver and start taking the lock off and unscrewing the door knob. She is crying the baby is crying. I am trying desperately not to be crying.
Finally, I am able to get the break the lock and get door open. Sweet relief. I hug my daughter and squeeze her so tight. Then I grab the baby and we run out the door. Only five minutes late to school. I had tears in my eyes the whole time.
No more locks on our bathroom doors. I mean really why bother shutting the door anyway…there is always a small child who needs your attention just as you sit down to pee.