I need adult supervision

Yesterday evening, around six, I stepped into the kitchen to start preparing for my child a dinner that she wouldn’t even eat. Like a big dummy, I thought to myself, “hey, why don’t I step out and get the mail real quick?” After all, the mailbox is attached to the side of the house, not six feet from the kitchen door. Should be easy, right?

Since I fancy myself a good mom, I swung the door shut behind me so Jillian wouldn’t have to deal with the incredibly cold air blowing in through the open door. But oh, silly me. The door? WAS LOCKED. You can open it from the inside and it doesn’t automatically unlock, but I go in and out at least a couple times a day, so don’t really give the locked/unlocked state of the door much thought.

It doesn’t show here on the blog, but I have a pretty high IQ. I am a reasonably intelligent woman on a normal day. But I managed to lock myself out of the house. With the baby inside. By herself.

Thankfully, all the baby gates were still up, so it wasn’t like she could toddle into the bathroom and fall into the toilet. She is fascinated by the toilet. And she couldn’t get into the kitchen, which is also good, since I am not childproofing it in any way, shape or form. That’s what the baby gate is for.

I tried the door once, just to make sure I really was locked out and not just crazy, then I sprinted (in my slippers) to the neighbors to use their phone. I’m glad we have nice neighbors, even though I think they think I am completely off my rocker.

Freddie was nearby, in a meeting, so he only took about ten minutes to get home. I refused the neighbors’ offer to hang out and peek through the window at the house because I wanted to be on the porch, able to peek in at Jillian, whose head I could just see cresting over the baby gate. Through the door, I could hear her bellowing, but it was regular “Feed Me” bellowing not “I crashed into something again, some more” bellowing, so I didn’t panic [much]. Had she managed to harm herself in the span of ten minutes or however long I was locked out, I would have gladly broken the window on the back door.

She was not amused, and neither was I. I felt all upset and queasy for the rest of the night. I still feel all at sea, but that might have to do with the fact that Jillian had the 15-month checkup today which involved shots. She freaked out hardcore for the first time and although I never have a good time when she gets shots, having her react the way she did this time threw me off.

Once home, I got her fed and down for a nap then I tried to feed myself. I burned my grilled cheese. Not just a little bit, either. BLACK. I’ve been making grilled cheese since I was about 5 (oh the good old days when parents let kids go near the stove without a fireproof suit on), so you’d think that 27 years of practice would keep me from burning it. You’d be wrong.

This is definitely one of those days when I will be extra-grateful to crawl into bed.