05 Rant Stupid Keys

In each of my previous rants, I have made mention of the inner and outer vestibule doors in my building that are a giant pain in my backside since they make getting in and out of my building extremely difficult with a child. I wish that was the case this time.

Today started out well. Ada had her first transition day at day care. She was there until 2 pm and decided she wasn’t interested in having an afternoon nap. Once we arrived home, she was still fighting the idea of a nap so I fed her a bit. Normally that is a simple task but I was pumping and feeding her a bottle at the same time since she wasn’t hungry when I started – crazy I know.

So, here I am sitting at my computer desk, Ada in the bouncy seat next to me. The pump is at my feet. I have a tube top on that makes the pump hands free. I’m pumping and have prepared a bottle for Ada in case she decides she is hungry mid-pumping. As she bounces away, the hunger cry begins. I grab the bottle and start feeding her. I make the mistake of picking a burp cloth up off the floor to catch her dribbles and to my surprise, both pump containers start to leak all over the floor. I lost about an ounce of milk because these stupid pump containers were not designed to resist gravitational forces when you lean over. (see rant 01 for more design issues involving breastmilk) An ounce is a BIG deal in the world of breastfeeding. This stuff is gold remember. Oh, and since I like to multitask, I’m also on the phone with my husband saying “Shit, Shit, Shit, I’ll call you back. I’m spilling milk all over.” Click.

We survive the milk episode and I’m a bit spacey. “Pregnancy Brain” (overall forgetfulness and an inability to complete a thought while pregnant) doesn’t disappear with the birth of a baby. It just morphs into “Mommy Brain” and becomes a constant state of distraction. Ada is still not interested in taking a nap so I decide we’ll venture out to run errands. We’re expecting a hefty snow storm tomorrow so it is a good time to seize the day and shop. Before motherhood, shopping was enjoyable. Now… not so much.

Facts of life: If You Give A Mouse A Cookie... he’s going to want a glass of milk.(See the children’s book by that title.) If you want to go shopping, you’re going to need to take a stroller. So as per usual, I bundled baby Ada into her car seat and take her out my front door and into the hallway. She starts crying. I go back inside for the stroller thinking I’ll do this in phases, the shopping list, my coat and the diaper bag are next. Once in the hallway, I have this great idea to take the stroller to stage two: between the vestibule doors, and come back for the rest of the stuff. I open the inner vestibule door and finagle the stroller through. As the stroller clears the doorway it starts rolling down the stairs and I quickly grab it and place it at the bottom of the stair clear of the outer vestibule door in case my neighbors need to get in while I proceed to phases three, four, five and six.

Then it hits me.

I’ve just locked my baby in the hallway of my building, while she’s crying, and I don’t have keys to the vestibule door. I resist the urge to panic and instead prop open the outer vestibule door and push every buzzer in the building as I pray one of my neighbors is home. My chances are limited as I know I’m not going to buzz myself in and I’m fish sitting for one of my neighbors who is in San Francisco so that leaves four options and it is 3:30 in the afternoon. I buzz. No one answers. “Shit, Shit, Shit.” I buzz again. Nothing. So I take a deep breath, step outside (thank goodness it is the first day of Spring and 45 degrees out since I’m not wearing my coat) and flag down the first person to walk by my building. “Hi. Can I borrow your cell phone? I just locked my child in my building and I don’t have my keys.” “Sure,” he says as I quickly call my husband and explain the situation. “How can I get into our house?” I ask. “Ummmm…” He replies. Well, if I wasn’t so anal about locking all of the windows, I could maybe push one open but I’m on an elevated first floor so I’d need this random guy to help me out. Not gonna happen. Back door? Nope, it’s locked too, and I don’t have a key to get into the fenced in area behind the house anyway. The Security Shop around the block has a copy of the key to the doors, but I can’t leave the baby, and they surely won’t give it to this random guy helping me out. Not to mention it would cost me $100 just for them to walk around the block and open the door. Instead, my husband says he’ll grab a cab and be home in 15 minutes. Okay. That will work. I’m saying thanks and goodbye to my random stranger/ hero when one of my neighbors miraculously appears. And she has keys! Thank you God! I thank her profusely for her well timed arrival and go inside to find that Ada is no longer crying after her 2 minute adventure alone in the hallway and is calmly looking around for Mommy. Of course when I go to see if she is okay, she starts crying. Go figure.

Moral of the story: Babies need their naps, don’t try to accomplish anything while a baby is crying, and (obviously) never walk out your front door without keys to get back inside.