It was wintertime, January of 2006. We had lived in our current house for all of 5 or 6 months. I was about two months along in my pregnancy with Troy. Now, this is important. Because I honestly was super crazy the whole time I was pregnant with Troy. The kids would walk by me, and I'd be like, "DON'T WALK SO LOUD!!!! AAAAHHHH!!!!" In that spring we had planted some grass, and I went out and used the weed wacker on the weeds growing above the new grass on the whole entire lawn. And we have a big freaking lawn. Everything made me mad, everything made me sad. I was the epitome of crazy.
So that day, my sister Lexi and I were going to get together to scrapbook. You know, back when I had time to do cool things like that. I went to the store with my two kids in tow, bought some stuff, and when I came home I thought, "Wouldn't it be great if I shoveled the snow off the walk for when Lex comes over before starting dinner? Look at me be productive while having morning sickness!" I had set the meat out on the counter, along with our other groceries, and went outside to shovel. It wasn't quite dark out yet.
So I shovel-shovel-shovel, and then I went to go back inside. Right as I reach for the doorknob, I hear a "click". Jakob, all of a little over two, and Brock at 9-ish months old, had been inside. And...Jakob had just locked the door on me. Of course my keys were inside my house, and of course we hadn't made a copy of our key to give to anyone else or to set outside the house for just such an occasion. In a nice voice, I said, "Jakob, honey, open the door for Mommy. Just turn the little, um, thingy, the other way." And my 2-year-old tried flipping the dead bolt part of the door. Then I go, "Jakob, honey, keep trying. It's the bottom one." Of course he didn't get it. I mean, he was two. So then I knocked on the door, and the urgency built in my voice. "Jake, please open the door. You just have to turn the thingy on the knob. Please, Jakob. Wait-I'm going to the back door-please let me in."
And Jakob then ran downstairs.
I kept knocking. I checked the front door. I checked the back door. Everything was locked-including windows. Tight-like unto a dish. Which, normally, would be a good thing. On that day, not so much.
I ran around the house. I rang the doorbell, and heard Jakob run upstairs. I begged at that door for him to let me in. He ran back downstairs to watch TV. I climbed down into our window well and banged on the window, hoping he'd peek through the blinds at me. Nada.
I sat down to try and figure out what to do. Now, a normal person would think Hey!-run next door and ask to borrow their phone and call a locksmith! But remember, I was not a normal person at this time. I was Crazy Pregnant Nat. I thought about going next door, but to call Pete, but knew he couldn't get to me for another two or three hours because of traveling back from work. I thought, hey, I could just hang out over there until Pete gets home, but no, that would leave my kids in my house all alone. Hmm, what in the world should I do????
I did the only "logical" thing that I could think of. I would just have to break in. Literally.
I grabbed a big hammer thing, and tried to find a suitable window. Which one? I didn't have a ladder (hm, still don't), so it would have to be one into which I could easily climb through. The only one that I could see that would work was our big sliding glass door in the backyard.
So, right now I'm making it sound like I was being all calm and collected at this point. Far from it. Which kind of goes without explanation, because hi-I was about to break a big glass door. But my mind was all, "THE MEAT IS ON THE COUNTER-IT WILL GO BAD!!!! BROCK IS DOWNSTAIRS CRYING-WHAT IF HE'S HURT?!?!?!? I WILL NEVER REACH MY CHILDREN!!! THEY ARE GOING TO DIE IF I'M NOT WITH THEM RIGHT THIS SECOND!!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!" Kind of Mama Bear meets Axe Murderer meets Xena the Warrior Princess.
I took my big hammer, and swung at the door. It hit. And bounced off. Nothing! So, I try again, but a little harder. Everyone and their dog was like, didn't you know it was going to shatter everywhere? Um, no, I did not, having never broken a window/door before. I actually thought I'd break a little hole right by the handle so I could reach in and flip the lock, and the glass would just have a little hole in it. But no. The whole entire pane shattered into little pebble-like pieces. But then I discovered something else-our door was double paned. So I had to do it again.
Each time I swung, I turned my face away and closed my eyes. Smart point-the only smart point of the night-for me. But, stupid point for me-I was holding my gloves in my left hand as I swung with my right. Why I didn't put my gloves on while swinging my hand at broken glass is beyond me.
I hit through the second pane, and barely realized that my finger got sliced in the process. I immediately started crying. There was glass everywhere in my kitchen, and outside. I went to the kitchen sink for my finger, dripping blood as I went. And then I got on the phone, trying to find anyone that I could to come and help me. I called my mom's cell, then my parents' house, then Lexi's cell, then my dad's cell, then my dad's work. No answers anywhere. I called Pete and told him what happened. I went downstairs and said, "JAKOB! Why didn't you let me in?!?!?" He was calmly sitting on the couch, watching TV. I think he thought he'd be in trouble if he came back up, which is why he was hiding.
I finally got ahold of my mom, and she came over. In the meantime, I tried to sweep broken glass with a bleeding finger. I tried to calm my baby Brock while bleeding everywhere. We went to the urgent care. My skin on my finger was hanging on by a thread, so they basically pulled it off and then sewed it back on.
For the next week I had a brace thingy that I couldn't get wet. Showering left-handed (I'm right) was quite the adventure. Then I had to take the brace off and could barely bend my finger. That night my family had to stay with my parents until a replacement door got put in. We propped up some cardboard to help keep snow out of our house.
And now I have a reminder of my Crazy Days.
And my glass sliding door doesn't work as well as the original.
