Never a Dull Moment

It's almost two o'clock and I am beginning our Saturday ritual. We attend church on Saturday evening, which requires I start preparing four hours before the service begins to ensure we make it on time. There are showers to be had, diaper bags to be packed, clothes to be ironed, and snacks to be prepared. You can see why I love having Saturday night church as an option, if I had to make a Sunday morning service, I would need to set my alarm for about 3:45am. But I must admit I am feeling a little nervous about making it to church this Saturday, and I know my anxiety stems from the incident that took place in the parking lot last Saturday.

It started like any average evening. Dan went inside a few minutes before us to fulfill his pastoral duties while I put on some lip gloss and made sure sippy cups were in the bags. I turned to look at Eli and Beaux, and upon deciding everyone was groomed and ready, decided it was time to head to the preschool. Even as I type the words, the next few moments unfold in my mind in slow motion. I opened the door, pushed the unlock button, walked around to Beaux's side to release them from their carseats, and my blood ran cold as I pulled the handle door.
Yes, I locked them inside the car. I immediately started to perspire and stamp my feet. How could I have pushed the lock instead of unlock? How could I have left my purse in the car? How could I get myself out of this situation? No reason to panic, I can handle this. And under no circumstances am I going to call Dan. I can handle this. Dan is the sort of man who never loses his keys, always makes every appointment on time, and can't fathom the concept of running out of gas. And even after eight years of marriage, I think he is still in awe how I get myself into these type of situations, regularly. As I paced back in forth in front of the car formulating a plan, a very nice officer who patrolled the parking lot for security drove by. He quickly assessed that I might need some help, and pulled over. After I explained what had happened, he without hesitation informed me he would call the Fire Department. The horrified expression on my face prompted him explain, it was the law when children are locked inside the vehicle. And at this point I was no longer perspiring, now I began to sweat.


I had one glimmer of hope. Maybe I could somehow instruct Eli out of his buckle before the Fire Department arrived, then the officer could radio the nice firefigther to turn around, and the problem would be solved. But to no avail.

The next six minutes went something like this.
"Eli, push the red button with your thumb. And then pull up on the buckles."
A half hearted attempt. "Mommy, I can't do it."
"Eli, please try again. You have to push the red button hard and the pull up on the buckles."
Another wimpy attempt. "Mommy, I can't do it."

When he began to cry out of annoyance and frustration, I was afraid I might be verbally abusing him, and with a police officer to my right, I knew I had to get it together. Plus, I could hear the sirens blaring as they tried to navigate through all of the cars that were pulling into the parking lot. There is quite a crowd that attends this service, and the parking lot is coned off to help parking that many cars go smoothly. That is unless a fire truck is trying to get in. Everything was a mess, all thanks to my mistake. People are stopped in their tracks, pointing and staring, waiting to see where this truck was going. And as if that wasn't enough. I look up and see Dan walking toward me. I remained cool as a cucumber.

"What are you doing out here, I have everything under control," I said.
"Bridget, security came and found me. They can see you on the cameras out here, and thought I might want to know you're out here with a fire truck and ambulance," Dan responded.

The very nice fireighters popped the lock in about one minute and nineteen seconds and then went on their way without even so much as a word of reprimand or shame. Dan gave me a hug, asked if he could hold onto the keys, and then graciously went inside without another word. I grabbed my purse, reapplied lip gloss, held my head down in hopes of not being recognized, and dropped the kids off. Just another average Saturday evening right?

Oh, and just to ice this cake, did I mention this isn't the first time the Fire Department has rescued my children from a vehicle I locked them inside of? Oh no, this was my second offensive.