LockedIn

Before I begin, first let me say that I am not a fan of the word "playdate." Are you hearing that? Playdate. Sounds so preppy, doesn't it? Very la-dee-dah and let me don some pleated khakis and pristine Keds so my perfectly groomed offspring can delicately sip tea in your living room. As a girl who grew up on the South Side of Chicago and whose neighborhood wasn't immume to the occasional drive-by, it just sounds pretentious to me. But there isn't another word that better describes coming to somebody else's house for a couple hours of hands-on toddler fun, so there you go.

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It was a cold, snowy day in February, and I had just pulled into Katy's driveway for a playdate. And not just any old playdate: my very first one. Katy, my racing partner in crime, is the first non-work friend I've made since moving to Indianapolis and also becoming a mom, and we are still very much in the courtship phase of getting to know each other. Add to that the fact that family and work obligations have prevented us from meeting up outside of the occasional race, and you're left with a mother who is equal parts nervous about unleashing her kids on unfamiliar turf and hopeful that everyone would hit it off famously, laying important groundwork for future merriment to come. It was perfect timing, too, as Luke was supposed to be out of town visiting his BFF, so I wasn't even cutting into our family time.

The first crack in our plan was the cancellation of Luke's trip due to poor weather; Indianapolis had been hit with a few inches of snow, making a lengthy road trip on I-65 not such a smart idea, so he decided to reschedule for the following weekend when conditions were predicted to improve. The second was Nathan's accidental ingestion and prompt regurgitation of a pretzel stick that became lodged in his throat, resulting in a clothing change two minutes before we were supposed to leave the house. As I buckled the children into their car seats, pulled out of my garage, and began the 45-minute trek to Katy's neighboring town, I quietly wondered if God was trying to tell me via snow and vomit that maybe we'd all be better off if I just stayed home.

But, but.... Friendship for me! Social interaction for the children! (Think of the children!) As Gollum would say, "We wants it, we needs it!" And so I trudged on.

We arrived at Katy's house about twenty minutes later than planned, so I was already feeling the pressure to get the kids out of the car and onto her door step as soon as possible. Not helping matters was Kara's entrance into Dreamland minutes before pulling into Katy's subdivision. The minute I killed the engine and grabbed my purse I was faced with an issue I hadn't previously given much thought to: When you have a wide-awake, rambunctious one-year-old who can't be trusted to follow directions near a residential street and a two-year-old who COULD be trusted but is snoring louder than any adult you've ever heard in your whole entire life, what are you supposed to do? Which child do you grab first?

In hindsight, I know what I should have done: I should have called Katy on my cell phone to ask if she could take Nathan while I handled Kara. But what can I say? I'm not a stay-at-home mom, and this was the first time I had ever traveled alone with both of my kids, and I was afraid of playing into the stereotype often ascribed to working dads--being too far removed from the trenches of day-to-day parenting to do anything more than run around like a decapitated chicken when presented with the simplest of tasks, like, I don't know, GETTING MY KIDS OUT OF THE DAMN CAR. I was too embarrassed to ask for help.

This is what laid the groundwork for my fatal error.

I grabbed Nathan first.

With the boy perched securely on my hip, I checked to see that my purse was still hanging from my shoulder (it was) and made my way to the other side of the car, where Kara continued to snore. I opened the door, lay my purse down at her feet (DANGER DANGER), hit the automatic locks (OMG WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS), and with my free hand shook her lightly by the shoulders. "Kaaara, Kara, honey, we're here now. It's time to play with our friends!" I chirped loudly into her ear. Silence. I grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek and ruffled her hair, but nothing.  I unstrapped her car seat buckles and even tried to tickle her, hoping all that jostling would wake her up enough to, at the very least, crabbily push me away. Fughettaboutit. "Kara-Kara-Kara-Kara-KAAARA," I shouted, Nathan wriggling like an earthworm, struggling to break free of my grip which was fast losing hold. And it was all in vain. 

Well, shit.

That's when I heard the turn of a doorknob, and Katy stepped outside.

"Is everything OK?" she asked. "Do you need any help?" At least, I think that's what she said. It's hard to recall exact wording at this point, but I trust it was something similarly hospitable and kind and caring.

"Oh, yeah," I called back, trying to sound casual when the whole time I was dying inside, DYING, "my daughter went and fell asleep on me, that's all!" I swiveled to get a better look at my hostess, and before I could process what was happening, my hand instictively pushed on the car door, and the car door snapped shut.

Internally, my slow-motion battle cry was so loud it was deafening (NOOOOOOO), and my eyes grew bigger than Pamela Anderson's double endorsements because holy hell, I done locked mah baybee in the car. In twentyish-degree weather. Almost an hour away from home.

The tears, they were threatening to surface any second, and if this had happened in front of one of my sisters I definitely would have pulled a Sally Field (I WANNA KNOW WHYYYY) but I pushed them away because crying in front of a woman who doesn't even know if you have a middle name is perhaps not the most inviting way to get better acquainted.

I would have stood there maintaining my deer-in-headlights expression a la Uncle Jesse from Full House except Nathan was still in my arms and I needed to call somebody to free my toddler from her hatchback prison. Plus, the car was parked in Katy's driveway in a town with a reputation as one of the safest and friendliest in the Indianapolis area, and the engine was off, and Kara was plenty warm in her winter coat, and besides that she was STILL snoring away, so I pried myself away from her long enough to carry Nathan inside. Katy called a local locksmith, but there was either a communication gap or a sense-of-urgency gap on his end because while the guy promised to call back with an estimated time of arrival, he never did, mother-effing bastard, doesn't he care about the children?!

So I called Luke. The husband who should have been in Kentucky some three and a half hours away with our only spare key but due to a random stroke of luck just happened to be at home.

That was a pleasant phone call. Especially since we'd had a slight disagreement earlier that morning.

Again with the forgetting of specific details, but the phrases "OH MY GOD!" and "I'm so sorry!" were involved. I'll leave you to guess who said what.

He had to dig the Cobalt out of a mountain-high pile of snow, Luke said, but he was on his way.

So, every three minutes for the next hour, I ran outside to check on my girl and make sure that a Wizard of Oz-like tornado hadn't suddenly carried the Outlander away. I imagined her waking up, realizing her predicament, and throwing herself against the window sobbing for Momma to get her out. I feared she would slither onto the floor and hit her head against the base of her car seat. I worried Luke would get lost or stuck in traffic and that I'd have to beg the fire department to pull the door off its hinges. Not that I'm even sure they do that sort of thing, mind you. But you know. I was scared.

I also felt very much like an idiot in front of my new friend, my new friend's husband, and my new friend's children.

After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was just a little more than sixy minutes from the time we called the locksmith, Luke was parking behind the Outlander and unlocking the passenger-side car door. I pushed past him to gather Kara in my arms--my baby, my baby--and brought her into Katy's house, and let me tell you, Sleeping Beauty never even stirred until I started removing her coat. She yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes and seemed generally refreshed from her leisurely mid-afternoon nap. She didn't even notice that her mother was curled into a fetal position on the floor, cheeks burning in humiliation, giving silent thanks to God, already drafting the inevitable blog entry.

Comments

[Dawn]

OH MY GOD. This is so something I would do. Thank goodness Luke was home and that Kara slept through the whole thing.

[DaddyD]

Sorry you had to go through all of that locked in situation. However, you told the story oh so very well. Good story telling. So, very real in it feeling.

[debi]

Oh my Lord. Even though I laughed here and there I am a mom too and I felt your pain. What I loved was at the end where you mentioned you were already drafting an entry for us all to read. In front of the entire neighborhood(1982) I drove away and left my new baby (#3) in his seat on the couch. They all saw me run inside with no baby and come out with a baby. I wanted to die. Someday you will write a book and I cannot wait.

[Katie]

Now, Mrs. Frema, you know as well as I do that every kid born in our generation was purposefully left in the car if they were asleep. Granted, maybe we weren't locked in, or only 2, but still...

Now, as a mother in our generation, I get it. I'm glad she slept the whole time and everything worked out. I would have been freaking out right there with you! And my husband would have said/done the same things yours did. Go out and get my car - Nissan Altima - supposedly it won't lock if the keys are still in the car... very handy to know!

[Molly]

I'm so glad you shared this. Classic!!

[Parker_B]

Oh, so sorry that happened! Great story, though! I remember being left in the car as a child (with my brother and sister) while my dad ran into the grocery store. He told us to keep the doors locked and honk the horn if anyone strangers approached the car. Hey, *no pressure* though! Ah, good times....

[Jen L.]

I love this story. I'm sorry you had to live it, but this is one for the "Greatest Hits" page!

[Must Be Motherhood]

I still think we should have taken a picture of you blubbering on the sidewalk, tearing at your hair, while Kara slept peacefully in the driveway.

Ha! But that didn't really happen because you kept your cool pretty darn well given the situation. Also, you are adorable for getting worked up at *all* worrying about what I was thinking. Trust me, I'm not worth the fuss. ;)

[Jess]

I'm laughing.

I know I shouldn't be, but I can't help it. I've SO done that. Except I did it at my husband's boss' house in extreme heat for a summer barbecue. And luckily the car was on, as was the a/c.

But I totally understand that feeling of OMG WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?

[Olivia]

I am so sorry! As the mother of a two year old daughter also, I could only imagine how hard that must have been!

[Trilby]

I'm laughing a little over here, but it's a "laugh with not at you" and only because I've done the same thing. But I don't have a spare key, and it was the 4th of July this past year. Blisteringly hot. We had to call the State Police to come break into my car. (They'll do it for free, but only if you've locked your kid in your car. Otherwise, they make you call Pop-a-Lock.) Thank God for them, my car was OFF. My husband was picking up a brick to break the window when the State Trooper pulled in our driveway.

[Kelly]

My son locked ME out of the house one morning when I went to take out the trash. He was looking out at me and started freaking out and crying. I had to go next door to call my husband home to let me in!

[AJU5's Mom]

Ugh! I felt bad enough when I locked us out of the car a few times based on similar situations. But I would have freaked out if I had locked one of the kids in.

[rkmama]

OK this wasn't funny, but still... maybe a little funny.
I have had so many panicked moments when I thought I've locked one of the kids in the car- and I have- only it's been in our own damn garage so I have a total panic attack only to be reminded by my husband that the spare key is not but 10 feet away. Am total idiot. And obsessive about locks.
You handled it well, Mama! We've ALL been there or some place equally mortifying :).

[eva]

Brutal! And I am sure that Katy didn't think any less of you - it's totally something that could have happened to anyone. Plus, it's the kind of mess that anyone would be able to feel nothing but non-judgmental sympathy for. I am just glad Kara had on her winter coat and that the Cobalt survived the snowy drive! Oh, and that you made a friend!

[Danielle]

Oh Sweetie! Every mother has to do something like this at least once! How else would you be able to give loving sympathy to Kara when she becomes a mom herself someday; and has her own oops moment?

[Grandma Molly]

Even in these difficult times, you think through the problem and come up with a workable solution. (I love Danielle's comment.)

The evil woman that I am, accidently shut Little Lukie's fingers in the closing hatch of the Ford Escort. :(

[Parsing Nonsense]

Oh dear, what an ordeal! So considerate of Kara to sleep through the whole thing though :)

[DaddyD]

Stay with what you want for the life style of it. One race does not make or break a life style of working and living. Walking is really more important than running: don't hurt yourself. The build up the bio-mechanical system takes more time than the oxygen in-take mechanism build up.