December 18, 2008

Around the Block

Confession Alert: Warning, if you are a member of the local police department, social services, or my family, please stop reading and visit Unfinished Dad again on Friday, December 19th 2008. Thank you.

Last night when I returned home from my five hour Wednesday reprieve, I forgot to move my car so that our babysitter could pull out of the driveway. She had made it all the way down our sloping front lawn before I remembered that I was blocking her in. I didn’t think it was fair to have her come back into the house, take her coat off, and watch the beasts for another five minutes while I jockeyed our cars.

Instead, I did what any sensible parent would do. I bundled up Annie and carried her out to the car so that she could sit with me while I backed out of the driveway. She gets a great kick out of sitting on my lap and trying to honk the horn, so the trip would also curtail the performance of her daily six o’clock freak-out. We slowly pulled out of the driveway to give the babysitter enough room to back out and then I saw multiple sets of headlights crest our little hill. Consequently, I had to pull about fifty feet down the street to let them all pass.

Once I was out there though, I realized that because I live on a one way street, I would have to back all the way up to our driveway. It was at this point that I weighed my options. One: Drive backwards up a hill, in the dark, with a baby on my lap. Two: Drive around the block, in the dark, with a baby on my lap. I chose option two, even though while completing option two, I continuously thought about both the death of my beloved Annabelle and the maximum prison sentence for child endangerment.

Three right turns, two minutes, and three attempts to hide my secret from walking neighbors later, and we were home. My heart was racing at my utter stupidity. I truly never considered option three: stop car, put baby in car seat utilizing high tech, five point safety harness, and continue around block. Once safely inside, I was soon rationalizing my actions as something parents back in the day did all the time. You know, before the curtailing of regular beatings and lead paint. Sadly, I was not to be convinced.

Hopefully, some of you readers out there asked yourselves the only relevant question regarding my idiocy and this post. Where was Tilda this whole time? Uh, sitting in her swing in the house, in front of our very see through, glass front door.


Blogger fraizerbaz said...

Parents aren't always perfect!

I have been a single mother for my daughter's whole life - her father has never lived with us.

Anyway, one Saturday morning, I was awake and up before my six-month old daughter, and I decided to take out the trash. I grabbed my key ring and locked the door on my way out (I lived in a huge condo complex at the time).

Upon approaching my front door, I fumbled around for my key to unlock the door. It was at that moment that I remembered that I had taken it off that particular key ring the night before. I was locked out with my baby still inside!

My neighbor let me use his cell phone to call my sister, who sent my brother-in-law over with a spare. My baby slept through the whole ordeal.

December 18, 2008 at 3:25 PM  
Blogger Lizzie G said...

You are beginning to fully understand just how I felt when I said to 6 year old Kristen, "Fine you ski down the mountain! If you make it back alive I'll let the others go too!" And then, unbelievingly watched as she skied (sp?) away from me. Did I really just say that? Yup, and she returned back safely with a huge smile on her face!

December 19, 2008 at 8:13 AM  

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