Sometimes I Love the Internet

Seriously, sometimes the Internet is awesome! (Sometimes it's like a heroin addiction, but that's another topic for another day).

So I posted and was all "Woe is me," which I do because it helps me process and let go of my own negative feelings. But I also share the bad stuff because I get e-mail messages from strangers, Facebook messages from friends and comments from readers all saying the same thing "I feel the same way, I'm thinking about getting help, thank you for sharing your story." More than hearing myself talk I like knowing that my words are reaching people and teaching them or supporting them, it's a pretty sweet deal.

Ahywho, so Melissa commented on my blog and was like "Sounds like Herx" it never in a million years would have occurred to me that the emotional symptoms could be caused by a system wide reaction like that. I love that sometimes I help people because of the interwebs and sometimes people help me. I also know that 21 days isn't always successful in treating Lyme so I'm watching out, and being careful, but if I have to go back on doxy I'd rather do it in the fall so I'm content to drag my feet for now. I digress, so I was feeling down and then the next morning I woke up and felt fine. Like totally, completely, I need to clean my house, and wear make up, and exercise, because I've really let it all go, fine! My friends have good things going on and I'm content in my own life so I can genuinely be all squee for them. Cancer still sucks a big one, but I haven't gone to Hogwarts, I'm just detoxing so I can't make that one go away.

My dining room table is still a mess right now, but that's because we just finished dinner homemade pizza, not frozen- another indicator that I have successfully removed my head from my ass. But as it turns out my head wasn't where I thought it was, I was detoxing. Epsom salt bath, twisting yoga poses, drink lots of water, here I come!!

All of a sudden I'm the pinnacle of productive living and sanity and my husband is lazy and coo-coo for cocoa puffs by comparison. It's not his fault, he's empathetic, I may have dragged him down a bit, but I can also lift him up. I'm cool like that.

The Worst Part

The worst part (for me) about being depressed is how it spreads into other areas of my life. Like weeds that you can't evict from your garden. They don't just stay where they are and choke out the positive and beautiful plants in one little area, they spread. They ruin the aesthetic everywhere.

I was pretty much not taking Zoloft while I was taking doxycycline.

The list of things you can't take when you're taking a Cipro drug is so long it's completely overwhelming. I was scared to take anything that would interact so I decided to taking nothing but the doxy. After basically 3 weeks without Zoloft I was feeling okay, a little low on the motivation-o-meter but otherwise a-okay. Now, nearly two weeks after finishing doxy my motivation level is so low it's hard to leave the couch. I can put on a good show for peeps and I'm not so far gone I don't love doing things with the family, obviously, but over all my inner monologue is pretty dark.

I have a hard time psyching myself up for even the most basic of tasks (like eating a real meal). I'm frustrated that I seem to need Zoloft, or at least that I'm not my normal self while not on a mood stabilizer. I'm frustrated that my dining room table is a wreck. I'm not sure if I'm depressed, or just lethargic (at least I'm not anxious). I don't really know what's going on, but it's like a weed, it's creeping in to everything.

My judgment is impaired. I'm not acting normally to even the simplest things. Example: I want to see the Harry Potter movie so bad I can taste it. I'm depressed that I haven't seen it yet. (Pathetic? Die-hard-fan?) It's just a movie.... I have the ability to get a sitter and go see the movie but I'm scared to call her. Why? Rejection? I'm paying her, not asking her out... I keep hearing friends good news, like really good news, and although I'm not so dark to be purely jealous, I'm happy first and jealous second. Why? Can't I just celebrate someone else's good news. (If you're reading this wondering if I've been dark and twisted about your good news, yes. Whether I know you IRL or just through the blogsphere, yes.)

I also keep hearing bad news. Cancer stuff (the running count is 3 wonderful people with a shitty shitty disease) and bad luck generally crappy things happening to good people. I don't deal well with bad news. I don't deal well at all with bad news. I basically shut down and pretend bad news isn't happening. So I obsess negatively about good news and ignore (or more like internally fester) bad news. I might not spend much time actively worrying about or being depressed over the sad things happening to good people but I'm not so naive to think its not sticking around. Bothering me. Weeds.

I mean it doesn't make sense, I feel totally emotionally all over the map, and yet things are not so bad I'm thinking about trying to stay off the Zoloft. I want to "make it on my own" as it were. But I'd like to function like a normal person again. I'd like to clean my dining room table and weed my metaphorical (and literal) garden. But its hard. It's especially hard because I have no trust in doctors (shrinks included).

Lost in the woods.
What to do? Oh, what to do....

Couch Potatoes

The scene around these parts has been pretty similar the last few days. Usually Mommy is perched on the couch behind the boys and we're all watching Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. (Which is not nearly as good as the book but is certainly very entertaining.) Today Henry got upgraded to First Class after he slammed his mouth (twice) into something and started spitting blood. Just a cut on his gums, but it seemed to warrant some special treatment, and he seemed to appreciate that.

Who knew that I was going to be all "TV is not that evil, in fact, it's a part of life; Lets move on" and then WHAM! I'm sick and stuck on the couch choosing show after show and movie after movie because I can't do much more than that.

But this isn't the way life is in this house, and it will change again, soon?

TV isn't all that bad, sometimes it's downright necessary.

Television and Children

My children will probably be fat kids with ADHD who are depressed and who are on the autism spectrum and they might be sociopaths*, but the good news is later they'll get Alzheimer's and forget I did this to them.

*Maybe they won't be sociopaths... I might have made that one up.

So, here's the thing- according to many sources too much TV is bad. So bad that TV might actually rot a child's brain (thanks for that one, Mom.) But Obesity and Depression and Autism and Alzheimer's are really truly tragic diseases and frankly scaring parents into thinking that plopping the kiddo in front of some Sprout or PBS is going to single-handedly create one of these serious disorders is insulting to people who actually suffer from them.

Now I'll admit Jack does act like a velociraptor in heat if you turn off his show before he's ready... or you won't turn on his show when he's ready. This is frustrating to me, but you know what's more frustrating?! Coming downstairs after putting Henry down for a nap to find that my bored and unsupervised 3 year old has made a fort on top of the dining room table out of the bone china (I don't actually have bone china... but it could happen.) Sometimes TV is necessary. At least it is in my world.

Right after Henry was born Jack probably watched 6 hours of TV a day. I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth. I felt so guilty. I cried, more than once, thinking about how I was farming out the parenting because it was easier for me. I worried constantly about what kind of damage I was doing to him mentally, emotionally and physically. I was taking the easy way out, it was springtime and I was forcing my active 2 year old to spend hours indoors while I got my mom-of-two sea legs. I went to the pediatrician because Henry was having a bad reaction to the mini-pill which I was taking (which my Midwife actually discovered) and the PA said to me while I sobbed about feeling guilty about utilizing the TV "Well, that's what happens when you have them close together." Unhelpful b*tch. (They are more than 2 years apart, BTW... not that it matters.)

So I've come to a conclusion as a complete non-expert on the topic, parenting is hard. Parenting comes with guilt about LOTS of things. Does 'the man' really need to lay it on so thick about Television? I'm not Amish. We have a TV. I like to watch it, usually after the kids are in bed. It was a major crutch when Henry was a brand new babe, and it's a useful tool now that my guys are older. It's not on all the time, we certainly get out and see the world. But I am absolutely done feeling guilty about letting the kids watch TV for a couple hours here and there.

I don't often get on a real soap box here, but this is me sticking to my guns (which I learned about because of watching TV and now have violent tendencies as a result.)

I am not a bad mom for using the TV as a part of our schedule. I'm not going to feel guilty and you shouldn't either!** My name is Emily, and I let my children watch TV, and I'm still a good mom.

**Unless your kids are actually plugged in, Matrix style, and then I will be the first to tell you how messed up that is.

If I'm being completely honest

Things are not going so hot right now.

I'm really overwhelmed by the state of my life, I feel like there's too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Jack's birthday party is this weekend and I feel totally unprepared for it. My goodie bag count has been wrong twice now and I'm going to have to go to the store again. I don't know what I'm doing for his cake. My house is a complete wreck, there's stuff EVERYWHERE in all the wrong rooms in all the wrong places and I don't have time to clean it with the kids running around messing it up all the time.

Henry hasn't had a good nap in 7 days. He'll sleep for 20 minutes to 1 hour and THAT'S IT. FOR THE WHOLE DAY. The rest of the day he's so cranky (probably because he's sleep deprived that I have to hold him. He weighs 24 pounds! I don't want to hold him all day. You'd think he'd be so damn exhausted from not sleeping that he'd sleep through the night, but no. He'll gladly be awake from 3-4am (like last night).

I'm so stressed out I didn't go to yoga yesterday because I didn't want my bad energy to mess up everyone else there. I need a vacation from my life, but when I look on the calendar it appears that I can't hope for one anytime soon.

Oh, yeah, and yesterday? Henry bit my boob so hard there's a one inch long cut (with blood and everything) from him. Awesome.

I will now attempt to put Henry down for a nap (again). Wish us luck!

The Crime Scene

I just spent approximately the last 30 minutes trapped inside my son's room (Jack) with him while poor Henry cried from his crib next door.

We've had the handles turned around since Jack started using a big-boy bed because we needed a way to keep him in the room so he wouldn't wander around the house in the middle of the night. I was standing on Jack's dresser, hanging on his model of the solar system (more on that in another post) when Jack shut and locked the door from the inside.

Annoyed. Yes? Pissed... okay, kinda. But I've grown up with locks like these, I used to pick them as a kid in my house growing up with simple things like the ends of shoelaces or the pointy part of the cap of a Bic pen. But Jack is not even three yet, he doesn't have shoes with laces or a desk filled with Bic pens. Shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!

I find this plastic hanger in his closet and break it apart to get the little metal hook. I'm still thinking about how awesome I'm going to be when I MacGyver myself out of this situation in the time it takes him to build a car out of duct tape (like 20 seconds). Well the metal hook fits part way into the door but then the hook widens and no matter how hard I shove it won't go in the little hole.

Something smaller.....

I need something smaller. Think, Emily. Sewing machine. Well I don't have anything but the sewing machine itself up here but maybe I'll get lucky and I'll have left a needle in the thing and can take it out and use that. That just has to be small enough.

There is a needle in there, and it is small enough. And that little thing must be made of steel because I pushed and shoved and it didn't bend or break but it didn't work either.

Then Jack says to me "Mommy, I need to go potty." Holyfuckingshit. This is so not happening to me. So I do what any logical mom would do when she was locked in her toddler's room. I open the window and ask him if he wants to pee out the window. He doesn't. Grrrrrreat.

It is at this point that I burst into tears. The Husband went to work late, and I told him to stay at work and not come home early so I'm going to be trapped in this room until sometime after 6 and I don't even know what time it is. There's no one walking their dogs in the open space behind our house. I don't have a clue how long I might have to wait for the neighbors kids to come home so I can yell to them to call my husband, the fire department, the president. Anybody!

I'm holding on to the knob of the door on my knees screaming, "Please, let us out! Please, let us out!" Jack now seeing that his mother has gone completely insane bursts into tears and requests a hug. "I'm sorry I locked da door, Mommy."

Snap. Back to reality. I instantly pull myself together because I have to get us out of here. I can hear Henry through the wall screaming. I start repeating over and over out loud "Every problem has a solution." Like a mantra.

"Jack, honey, look out the window. If you see Lia or any of your friends or someone walking a puppy dog tell Mommy. Can you do that?" My little soldier says "Yes, Mommy." Like he means business and walks over to the window.

"Do you want to go pee pee out the window?" "No, Mommy. Pee pee goes in the potty." Well I can't disagree with his logic.

I try to push the pins out of the hinges using that hanger hook that's too big for the keyhole in the handle of the door. They won't budge. The hook is probably aluminum, it usually takes a screwdriver and a hammer to get them out, but if I had that I could just take the doorknob off.

I make peace with what I'm about to do. Stand up take three steps back and throw myself against the door. Picturing the frame splintering and the door crashing against the walls in the hallway. At least we can fix all that. ::Smash:: My pathetic little body hits the door like a bug on a goddamn windshield. So much for that idea.

I jamb the hanger hook between the door and the frame twisting and turning it hoping to, well frankly I don't really know what I'm hoping to do. All of a sudden part of the hanger hook breaks off. The thick bulky part.

Hope. A tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe now it will fit all the way through the keyhole.

It does!!!

Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Oprah Winfrey! Thank you, Tom Cruise!!



p.s Needless to say, we're turning the knob back around before bedtime tonight.



p.p.s. Yes, Jack held it till we got out and Henry's not pissed anymore, now that he's had a little snack.

The whole truth

I haven't been honest.

I've been living this way for so long I don't remember when it began. The hardest part about realizing I should get help was because it's not that bad. When I compare my mental health to people I would describe as having "real problems" things seem fine. I'm not depressed; joyless; or detached from my boys. I don't have panic attacks that leave me in the fetal position on the floor. I'm not even necessarily unhappy, for lack of a better way to describe it... I'm just really pissed off.

I'm pissed off at myself more than anything. Why? I could be a better mother than I am. Every morning I wake up and tell myself that I will not raise my voice, I will encourage not threaten, I will not loose my cool. But every day I yell, threaten and loose my cool. I avoid calling and seeing my friends often because I'm afraid of how they will judge me, because I feel like a terrible failure of a mother. Also I find that I have to bite my tongue from yelling at friends, strangers on the street, dust mites.

Who parents in anger? Me. Apparently.

A month ago I decided enough is enough. I started meeting with an LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker) to talk about ... everything. We decided that my symptoms, though not nearly as serious as people with 'real' problems, were pervasive enough that medication would help. I mean, with stories about mothers who feel no attachment to their kids, harm themselves and/or their kids or who have persistent negative thoughts- my problems seemed silly.

I dragged my feet. Even me, with my enlightened view of mental health, hesitated to actually take medication (again) to solve a problem. Couldn't I just decide to change? Couldn't I just chill the heck out? Well then I read this blog and it spoke to me. I also read these blogs where women bravely share their stories. That was it, big or small I wanted help with my problems.

The first Psychiatrist I called didn't have an appointment till after Christmas. The second Psychiatrist told me that I needed to stop breastfeeding because and I quote "What is the benefit of breastfeeding?" Um, okay...

So when I got off the phone with them I called my midwives and ironically the lactation consultant answered the phone. We discussed Shrink #2's narrow world view and she made an appointment for me.

Within an hour the midwife who I was to see the following week called me from her personal cell to make sure I was okay and to tell me she was willing to write a script right now. Have I told you how awesome those midwives are? I picked up my generic 25mg of Zoloft (breastfeeding safe, thankyouverymuch) and took the first that evening. I could feel it when it hit my bloodstream, if you've ever taken Adderall or Benadryl or even Tylenol with Codeine you know how it feels when a medication first starts to metabolize. I felt a little loopy- but the tension in my shoulders almost immediately relaxed.

It's been 4 days and it's honestly incredible. It's like a veil is lifting. It's impossible to explain without using metaphor and hyperbole. Suffice it to say I feel much, much better... and this is just the beginning. The oddest 'side effect' is I was using my inhaler 3-4 times a day before I started the Zoloft and now I haven't used it in 3 days. Dare I say- I'm kinda excited?! I don't really freak out much anymore. I don't hardly see a need to yell. I feel so relived.

I feel like George Bailey

"I want to live again; I want to live again!"

I've been annoyed by most parts of the home-selling process but one of the things that bothers me the most is constantly being on hold.

Jack wore cloth diapers, he ate homemade organic baby food, I made stuffed animals, blankets, toys, a mobile for his crib and I painted. I wasn't constantly feeling like Julie Andrews or anything but I felt like I was doing more in my life, for me and for my little guy.

While we've been on the market we've done what's easy, what's clean, what's pre-packaged and I'm tired of it. Last week I made beef curry; my version of a coup isn't exactly revolutionary war or anything but it worked. This week Henry has his sweet baby booty in cloth and I'm making baby food as I type this. Deciding NOT to be on hold makes me channel George Bailey.

I have decided not to be on hold. I have decided to live.

Which brings me to an interesting poll. Would you rather see a movie in its original black and white or in the re-mastered color?

Getting Lazy

I could blame...

the summer heat.

my general fatigue.

my sweet boys.

writers block.

or Plants vs. Zombies.

But... I've been unmotivated, unwilling or otherwise incapable of producing good-blog material for a while now. Bear with me. I'll get back on the wagon soon.

Working on it...

I'm working on this post about what's going on with me right now and I'm having a hard time putting it into words. The problem is several things at once: I'm stressed out about selling & buying the houses, I'm feeling like a sub-par mom lately, I don't know if I should just hold on for dear life and trust that it will all be over soon or I should put on my big girl panties and get out of my funk. I don't know that I have the where-with-all to pull myself out of this funk.

Usually I'm pretty good at self-reflecting and seeing what it is that I need to snap out of it and then I just do it. I think I'm feeling like life is coming at me from all sides so I don't know where to start.

Pedicure and a ladies night out, though always good for the soul, might not be enough this time.

I also find myself avoiding my friends because I'm such a Debbie Downer that I don't want to subject people to me. Which I know is part of the problem...

I need to get some fun and not overwhelming activities on my agenda. I know I deserve to be in a good place but my kids also deserve a mom who can roll with the punches not a mom who gets KOed by them.

Are we there yet?

Today is one of those days. Henry is nothing but fussy. He cannot and will not be comforted. He's uncomfortable and I can't do anything for him.

Jack has asked for his paci for the 12th time, has inquired about his third snack of the afternoon and will not play in the basement so at least I can get a break from at least one of them because "It's scary down dere, Mommy."

I just realized I haven't showered in about 3 days. There isn't enough salty/sweet/alcoholic treats in the world to make this sh*t show of a day seem better. But you know what? The Husband will be home in two hours and hopefully he'll take over so I can stop smelling like a dirty gym sock.

1:59:59..... 1:5958.... 1:59:57.....

Dedicated Mom or Lunatic?

It's a tough call.

Yesterday when I was picking Jack up from 'school' I put is art projects on the roof (you can see where this is going) while I got the boys in the car. Yup, I totally drove off without them. I was about a mile or two down the road when I see something pink floating in the air behind my car. I gasped.

I start saying "Oh no, Jack, I'm so sorry." I slam on the breaks and pull into some one's driveway. I flip the car around and pull over on the side of the road. It's a busy two-lane double line road. I'm pulled over on the shoulder when I jump out of the car. I wait for the cars and trucks to speed on by and I run out into the middle of the road to rescue Jack's little pink construction paper pig.

Success.

But there are still two piggy projects missing. So, I keep driving- back towards the school. I pull over again, but alas it's just a piece of trash. And again, but this time it's an old beer can. Finally I get back to the entrance to the school. Voila! Piggy #2 found in the driveway right at the entrance.

I get all the way back to my parking space and I run into Linsdey (who was picking up Cady). Piggy #3 was right there just feet from my parking space. She made fun of me for going on my crazy scavenger hunt. But then I got home and Jack's fluffy cotton ball sheep from the day before was found in the basement, eviscerated by the cat. So maybe it was good that I went a little nuts finding his projects from the day.

I wanted to have a tangible memory from Jack's 'school' experience but did I go too far? I don't think so, but I'm really weird about keeping art. Even if it's just finger painting or some scribbles on a paper. I don't keep everything, not by a long shot, but I try to keep a hand full of things so I'll be able to look back later and remember when Jack was just a tot.

I've been told

My mom and my husband had a come to Jesus an intervention a chat with me about my formula hang up and I've decided that I'm over it. Occasional, even daily formula is no big. I'd be sad if I ended up with less and less supply, but I don't really have to make it much longer till we start adding solids anyway. According to Google, babies who are really crazy good sleepers like Henry appears to be (10 hours is average, sometimes we get 12) it's not uncommon for moms to have some minor supply issues because they feed so much all.day.long and they feed never or hardly ever at night.

In unrelated exciting news, I've found a great new (to me) laundry detergent that totally cuts bad smells out of the microfiber inserts in the cloth. Thirsties makes a pre-wash and it's ah-mazing. I can't smell that yucky ammonia smell at all after using it! I have also been having a problem with our towels smelling kinda mildewy after about a day or 2 so I'm going to try this magical stuff on them too!

Also, Jack and I made a cake for Daddy for Father's day. Jack did all the adding of ingredients (except eggs) and most of the stirring, and nearly all the post-icing decorating. I was able to turn it into a 2-day activity for him. Clearly I'm going to have to do lots of baking and eating baked goods, because it's such an educational activity for my toddler. Right. Right?!

I feel guilty.

Duh. I'm a mom.

So in the last few weeks Henry has had one bottle of formula every single day. For some inane reason I feel guilty about this. Formula is awesome, it feeds babies and they grow in to healthy, strong, well-adjusted adults. Why do I feel guilty or feel like something is wrong about this? I mean LLL (La Leche League) would have a bone to pick with me, but I'm not that hardcore about my breastfeeding, so what's the rub?

Jack never ever ever successfully took a bottle. We didn't even try till he was 4 months old. So his diet was 'pure'. For me, it was the longest year of my life. I couldn't go anywhere, for a whole year. I was like peanut butter to that kid's jelly. Maybe I feel guilty about that.

Sometimes I wonder if these bottles could mess up my supply, between the bottle and Henry sleeping 10 hours at a time I bet my boobs are thinking "WTF am I supposed to be doing here?!" I mean if I'm being logical, one bottle a day is consistent, so why should that cause a supply issue?

But today was the first day in a while that Henry didn't need a bottle. I feel like Rocky, having jogged to the top of the Art Museum steps.

Mom-guilt. It's annoying and it's unavoidable.

That's not what I ordered...

One
On the day that I went into labor with Henry I *thought* I *might* be in labor so I went down to the midwives for a labor check. They thought I wasn't in labor, hah! I sure showed them!
Anyway, that was a long morning so on the way back home I stopped at Einstein Bagels for a tasty turkey sandwich ::drool::. Well, the drive thru was closed and so I went inside and waited 5 minutes at the counter for someone to acknowledge I was there. Then I waited for a few minutes while the cashier talked at basically the volume of a jet engine to some other guy so that I could, you know, pay. Then he forgot to give me my cup so I couldn't get a drink-nor get a word in edgewise- while I waited, and waited and waited for my food, which when it came was not what I ordered. Then I got in my car, twitching, and drove home so I could call corporate because, seriously, that's not what I call service.

I basically left a message with corporate just explaining the deal and I figured since the guy who refused to ring me up was the one wearing the little Manager badge the district guy might at least read him the riot act for getting a complaint.

So today in the mail I get a letter from corporate with vouchers for 2 free sandwiches and a free bakers dozen bagels. Um, awesome! You have not lost a customer, Einstein... well played. I will however be going to the other location near me next time.


Two
At my 6 week check up my midwives discussed birth control and I would LOVE to use the Mirena because something a. I don't have to think about and b. can make my periods shorter and lighter sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Unfortunately I've never done well with hormone birth control. I've tried: ortho tri-cycline, ortho cycline, ortho evra, and the nuva ring. Each one has made me crazy (it's not uncommon for some women to experience severe enough emotional effects from birth control that it doesn't make sense for them to use that type of method). And when I say 'crazy' I mean crazy-von-crazy of crazytown. Knowing this my midwives suggested the mini-pill as a way to test my sensitivity to progesterone (because everything but mini-pill and the Mirena includes estrogen and progesterone).

Sadly I took another trip to crazytown and now will have to resort exclusively to hormone-free methods, because seriously what partner is willing to have 'relations' with a person who hates him, everyone else and is willing to demonstrate this by cursing like a sailor every chance she gets? I'm starting to wonder if the pharmacy is mixing up my order for birth control with someone else's order for crazy-pills.... Hmmmm.....


This pill-poppin' problem does explain why I seem to be missing all the basic coping skills a parent of two should have and why until this point having two has been stressful, yes but not unmanageable. It has also seemed that Henry has been quite a... um... pill lately and behold through the power of Google I have discovered that some women who used the mini-pill noticed a serious increase in fussiness because their milk flavor/supply/whatever changed enough to make the baby cranky. Fortunately most report that within 2 weeks of stopping the pill the baby returned to their non-fussy self.

Mommy of the Year

We had an exciting day. The morning started when Miss Linda came over to play. She brought some toys and we read some books and sang some songs. She brought a 'shape sorter' type toy and Jack sat with her and learned how to use it! I'm so excited for him! Learning the actual intended use of a toy is kind of a big deal at this age. Apparently when he put together this tube toy she brought it was also a 'wow' moment because it's hard for kids to realize they can do that especially because we weren't demonstrating it. We also learned how to sing the wheels on the bus (video below).

This afternoon I nominated myself for mommy of the year when I locked Jack in the car in the parking lot of the 5 Below. There I was closing the front door (the back door was open) and the back door started to fall closed. It didn't click in my head that I had already locked the car as the door slowly closed I only realized after I heard the "Click" of the latch. "Oh, Sh*t!" The door wasn't closed all the way so I shoved my fingers in the crack and pulled with all my might. No luck. I looked around the parking lot, no one was coming in or out of the store. Jack sat there laughing at me. I'm thinking to myself "Do not panic! If you freak out he's going to totally lose it." Seconds later up pulls a pair of women with their own little ones in the back. They didn't have cell phones so they stood by the car (as though it was going anywhere) so I could go in the store and call Matt. I knew if I called the police they would be there sooner but I knew I was more likely to get all emotional if I had to explain to a stranger what was happening.

Matt picked up and I said "I'm in the parking lot of the 5 Below and I locked Jack in the car, you have to come bring me the keys."

Matt "Seriously?"

Me "Seriously!"

Matt "Ok, there are a few things I have to do here and then I can leave." Seriously, your son is baking in a car, what on earth do you have to do today... it's SSA not NSA... no one is going to die.

Me "It's hot outside, if you can't leave now I have to call the police."

Matt "I'll be there." So I go outside and wait. The mommies that were helping me go into the store and I start thinking of ways to keep him entertained. He just keeps looking at me like "Entertain me already." So I do "Where is thumbkin" 4 times, "5 little speckled frogs" 3 times "Head, shoulders, knees and toes" a dozen or so times, and sporadically explain to passers by that yes, I have in fact, locked my baby in the car and yes, my husband is coming. I keep checking to see if the back of his neck or his hairline is starting to look sweaty... Nope. He looks happy, amused my mommy's forgetfulness. Glad I can entertain him.

Matt arrives (total baby-locked-in-car time: 30 min) and as I'm unlocking the door with his keys my hands start to shake a little. Get a grip. I get him out of the car seat, get control of myself and reach for his sippy filled with apple juice (still cold). Jack is very excited, to see Daddy. So we all go into the 5 Below to do our shopping and not 5 minutes later up pulls a fire truck and out hops 3 guys. Just shopping at the store, not trying to report me to social services. How great is that? If Matt didn't get there when he did 3 heroes would have showed up anyway... hilarious!

Here is the video, it's not at a great angle, because I wasn't directing, but you get the idea.

To translate "Round, Round, Round..... Round, Round, Round."

So my PSA for the day is put your keys in your pocket as soon as you take them out of the ignition. It's a lot easier to lock a purse or diaper bag in the car than it is to lock your pants in the car!