Sunday, November 28, 2010

When did I move to Fort Knox?

So today's fiasco begins with hungry cats and Christmas shopping...

Our cats ran out of their favourite food two days ago so I had to go to the shops to get more. Now, before you call RSPCA, they have other food! They just don't like it much. SO: Butterfly and I bundle ourselves in the car early this morning to go for an adventure to the shopping centre. To get cat food and supplies for Christmas presents in jars :)

We had a ball at the shops, Butterfly walked around with an empty green bag on her shoulder "helping" me. I got the appropriate number of comments to say how beautiful/smart/funny she was, so I came home satisfied!

When we got home, our day started sliding uncontrollably downhill. The following events happened in quick succession...

We walked in the door. I locked it behind us (remember this fact). I put away the cold stuff in the fridge. I picked up a cat food sachet to relieve the hungry pussy tats. We went into the laundry. Opened the door to the cat run. We fed the cats. Butterfly patted the cats, then went for a walk. And fell down. Cried out for me. So I sat up from the doorstep. I ran to get her. And the EFFING. DOOR. SLAMMED. BEHIND ME!!

It was locked.

Now! Having JUST walked in the door, I had not opened a SINGLE window in the house. Or door. I was starting to list all my choice swear words (in my head of course) and searching the house for a window I may have forgotten to shut. Or not shut properly. Alas, I was too thorough this morning! I still jimmied open the screen on the window to the playroom to see if that window was open. It wasn't.

New plan? I fancy myself buff enough to barge my way back into the laundry. It would suck to buy a new door, but its lunch time AND nap time and we need to get back inside! So I give it a hearty BARGE with my shoulder. SUGAR HONEY ICE & TEA! Thats one solid door. Ouchy Mama!

I briefly consider sending Butterfly back inside through the cat door and asking her to fetch the keys. Only they are likely hung on the hook past her reach, and if she gets stuck in there alone she'll melt down, and so will I! Plus she has her father's head, bless her, and she probably wouldn't fit anyway!

Plan C? Get to the front yard and see if, by a miracle, the front screen is unlocked. Sounds easy enough. Only I can't get into the front yard! Hubby has some fricken padlock on the side gate so I can't open it. The door to the garage is locked for once. The fence is rully rully high. I briefly entertain the idea that I might be able to climb over the fence with Butterfly on my back all primate style. But I know she would never hold on.

I spy a huge plastic pot plant. If I can chuck it over the fence and get it to land face down I might be able to lower Butterfly onto it. So I chuck. And the FUCKER rolls away.

We are officially STUCK. In our own backyard. I hit the sudden realisation that I have to stay cool or Butterfly will pick up on my anger/panic. So I take a deep breath and initiate plan D.

Plan D? Climb up the fence and feebly yell for help. I couldn't SHOUT it, because, well, it wasn't a life or death situation and I was also mighty embarrassed. NOT as embarrassed as I would have been had I been nekked, which if any other day I might just have been!

Usually our area is abuzz with activity, people walking around etc. And NORMALLY the next door neighbours would be in the backyard, the kids crying and the Mum screaming. OF COURSE it was lunch time and no one was around! And of COURSE it was so hot that all the passing cars had their windows up and their air cons on! CURSE CURSE CURSE!

After half an hour of me dangling awkwardly off my fence and singing songs to Butterfly at her request (Elmo! Gabba! Elmo! Elmo! Gabba!) my guardian angel went strolling by. Her name was Cheryl (it wasn't, but thought best to change it) and from her shirt she worked at Target (she didn't, again I'm playing silly buggers with the details). I yelled to her for help and she rushed over, I told her the whole debarcle and she offered to help us! So after a quick introduction for Butterfly ("Whats your name? Butterfly, this is Cheryl. She is going to pull you over the fence, OK?") she caught my baby as I lobbed her over the fence and then held her while I jumped over. That fence was EFFING high! I barely had the guts to jump down alone, how could I have considered it with my daughter on my back?

All of this was made more awkward by the fact that Butterfly, yes, had a pretty dress and shoes on, but we had ditched her nappy when we walked into the door. So this stranger had to catch my bare assed daughter! Luckily (?) she had peed in her shoes moments before this so there was no danger.

OK! So off goes Cheryl, after some quick thankyou's. We dash to the corner shop, where our lovely convenience fella lends us his phone and offers us cold water. Bless 'im. I ring hubby and within minutes he is on his way to rescue us!

So after more singing on the front step (Butterfly learned a new word: "LOCKED!") and some tears over the fact she couldn't reach Fruddy (her snuggle cat, Fluffy), hubby zooms up the drive, knight in shining leathers, on his noble steed (his scooter). Shaking his head at me he lets us in the house. Then has to go back to work!


If you learn anything from my experience, let it be this

  • Breastfeed. I may have been starving but I didn't have to worry bout Butterfly

  • Hide a spare key to your house somewhere!

  • Make sure you can escape your backyard in case of fire, invasion or unfortunate laundry door lockout

So I has my good samaritans name and place of work, I'll have to stop by with a thankyou methinks!



  1. This was pretty sausagey behaviour, am I right? I mean, we don't hang out much at all but clearly it's too much as it is! SO pleased you are safe and rehydrated and I have sent a letter to the area manager of Target to find Cheryl and give her a bonus, because dagnabbit thank goodness she was there. I love that you are so honest with the silly buggery of details, I should try that more often.

    This reminds me of the time I locked SB in the car, it was but a miracle that my phone was in my bum pocket. Perhaps you could get a chain thingy to attach to your pants with your keys on? And a key to the fence? Then again, you don't need any more help making your pants fall down, Carbz xxx

  2. Bahahaa!! Sausageness is totally contagious. A chain thingy? Who percieves that they might need their keys whilst at home feeding the cats? We are putting some safeguards in place to ensure this doesn't happen again!