Saving Ethan

 The twins love it when I say we're goin' bye-bye. They start rounding up their shoes and saying, "C'mon, Ess-go!" It's so nice now that they are bigger because they can walk everywhere. I don't miss the carriers or the mandatory double stroller. They hold my hands very well and walk along like big kids. I love it. I have to slouch just a little bit and shorten my stride, but I feel ten feet tall walking hand in hand with my little miracles.

The heat has been so terrible that we've been staying inside most of the time, and I'm going a little crazy. I want to make the most of my time off of work, so I packed them up and we were headed to meet at a friend's house for a play date. The kids were so excited. We stepped out into the oven of a garage, and I opened the car door. No car seats. There they were, sitting on the floor of the garage. The kids really shouldn't be playing in the garage with all of the unsafe garage things and this 108 degree heat. 

But how hard can this be? I'll just strap these in really quick...for the first time...ever. I know. It's awful. Rodney babies me, I guess. He just handles things for me. What can I say? I've never had to move the car seats since we each have two. How stupid do I feel admitting that I don't know how to put the car seats in the car? Anyway, I started fumbling around with the straps, trying to figure out how it looked like it should go.... I've seen Rodney do this, but it was hard to get a good look at what he was doing. I started shoving one of those metal hooks into the crack of the seat, doing my best to get the hook around the anchor that I could feel in there. The heat was heavy and suffocating. I was sweating and my fingers were hurting from all that jamming around. I was getting nowhere, so I gave up and led the kids back inside.

Immediately, Ethan started in with the crying and whining, "Bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye?" I got on the phone to see if Rodney would just come trade me cars. He is usually able to get home for a few minutes if needed since he works just down the street. He said he would when he had a chance. I hung up and sat down, trying to cool off and calm down, despite the alarm-child tugging at my arm and screaming in my ear. I decided I'd had enough and led him to his bedroom and shut the door. I just needed a few minutes. I have never done that before, put him in his room and shut the door. I normally put him in his crib and shut the door. But I was so flustered and irritated.

I could hear him struggling with the knob and screaming louder than ever. He sounded like he was terrified, so I went to the door and--the door knob wouldn't turn. He must've locked the door. Oh no! The most scared little boy I've ever heard was screaming from behind that door, trying the knob over and over and calling to me, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, open, open, open..." in a tone that I have only heard one other time, when he was cornered by our dog Daisy and holding her favorite toy.

"It's okay, baby. Mommy's right here. Don't worry, okay? I'm going to get you out."

How am I going to get him out?

I found a bobby pin in the bathroom and tried to pick the lock. He was going hoarse from all of that screaming, and I knew that he knew he was trapped inside. I felt so sad for him, so desperate. I went to the garage to look for a screw driver. I could hear him echoing through the house on the monitors.

Think, think, think....

I grabbed a screw driver and took it to the door. I unscrewed the door knob, but it wouldn't come completely loose. Why won't it come loose? I could feel him still tugging at it. I felt like I was having an anxiety attack with him screaming while I struggled to get the knob off of the door. I was afraid he'd get hurt. I was nervous that I would break the knob and make things worse. I thought maybe I should screw it back in and try to pick the lock again. While I was doing that, I called Rodney and told him about the latest development. I hated to. I didn't want him to think I couldn't take care of it. I always need his help with everything. It's pathetic. God love him.

"It's okay, Ethan. Mommy's right here, and Emma's right here, and you're just fine, baby. You're fine and you'll be out in just a minute. Okay? Do you see Woody?" They got a new Toy Story poster for their room and they love it. My efforts to soothe him did not seem successful, but I was doing a pretty good job of appearing calm. Emma was being very good, too. She stood right by me the whole time with a very concerned look on her face.
"Crying?" she said.
"Yes, he's crying, but he's okay."

Rodney finally pulled in the driveway and unscrewed the door knob again. I knew it.
"He won't let go," he said and gave it a little push. It popped out and Ethan was finally free. His little face was red and swollen. His breath was choppy and heavy. Poor baby. Rodney scooped him up and gave him a hug. He wanted his daddy, who helped him, who keeps him safe. I felt so sorry for shutting him in there, sorry for failing to save him, and sorry for myself. I needed that hug just as much as he did.

Daddy leaped back to work in a single bound and we made it to our play date in perfect time.