So. Imagine a normal day. Just a normal bog standard day. Well, there is no such thing in my little world!! Those that know me will laugh. I have to laugh, otherwise I’d cry, and I can’t promise that I’d ever stop. I am one of those people that everything happens too. I once actually believed a secret tv crew could be following me round. I was preparing myself for the day the jumped out at me and screamed “you’ve been punked!!!”. But that day is still yet to come! One of my longest friends, Gemma Pepper once told me that this was a sign of maddness. She’s probably right, but the irony is that she’s has mad as me and probably staring in the same tv show! But that’s other story for another day.
Anyway, the day started out ok. Just a normal Wednesday. We all woke up, we all had breakfast, we all got covered in Forrests breakfast, we all ran around the house like raging Banshees trying to beat the clock for the school run because we pissed around in the kitchen for too long, then Andre and River left for school/work and probably signed in the late book because we’re really good at that in this house!! I don’t no this for a fact, because Andre tries to hide this from me. Although he was busted once, when I took River in late as he had a hospital appointment. I had to sign him in the late book and low and behold all the precious late marks were either River or our partners in crime and our fellow Late Gang members, Olly & Rae.
Anyway, I then attended the funeral of a long family friend, which was beautiful from start to finish. I thought I was bossing at being a mum on this particular day. I had everything organised, house was nice and tidy, lunch for Forrest was made, tea for the family was pre-made, my dance bag was packed and the boys pjs all laid out for Andre. After the funeral, I headed home to collect the bags. After fannying around with Forrest for half an hour with a leap and roar Kion from the lion guard, which I find highly hilarious and Forrest is kind of over, we headed out the door!! As always, I trotted like a fat pack horse to the back door, locked the door and plodded to the car. The bags went in the foot well of the passenger seat and Forrest into the front passenger seat. As he’s an extremely active baby, who is also cutting teeth, I handed him my car keys to hold whilst I attempted to strap him in. I do this regularly and never thought it would be a problem. Normally I walk round to the drivers side, take the keys from him and then away we go. But no. Not today! Just as I shut the door, I saw his little brown eyes look at me make the cutest little smile, then press the god damm alarm button on my key fob!! Yes!! The little bugger had locked himself in the god damm car!! It makes me feel less shit about myself if I blame it on the 9 month old baby. Anyway, fear set in. How the hell was little old me going to get a baby out of the car with no keys!! To make it worse, i had fully armed the house alarm and locked the door!! So i rang Andre, i think he about had a heart attack thinking i’d kill someone!! He jumped in the car and headed home from work in Nottingham. It only takes him 30 mins to get home, but boy, it was the longest 30 minutes of my whole life!!!!!
Whilst waiting, i thought, how are we going to get him out the car when Andre is home because when our house got burgled the scum bags stole my spare key!! So i thought back to a trusty old 999 programme i watched and decided to ring the Fire Brigade and ask their advise. They advised we didn’t smash the window ourselves, and said they would come out and get into the car for us. Very kind!! I kind of felt like all my christmases had come at once and visioned my dream of being saved by a team of hunky fire men.
So whilst waiting, i did a full scale musical production for Forrest through the window of the car. My version of 5 little monkeys was actually genius and through the mist of panic and worry, i did give myself a mental high five in my head. I’m surprised i didn’t get carted away to the loony bin though, anyone living in close proximity must of heard me belting songs out thinking ‘what the hell is this woman on with’. It didn’t stop there though. He soon got bored of my singing and started screaming, so i swiftly moved onto dancing and a rather energetic game of peek-a-boo. It seemed to do the trick. Andre then pulled up on the drive way. The poor bugger just smirked and shook his head. He has to react this way because otherwise i think i’d be buried under the patio by now as these situations seem to follow me about. Just after he rolled up so did the fire engine. A full blown, huge, massive fire engine. Just in time for all the mums walking home with the kids from school who of course all stopped to have a nose at what was cracking off. Sadly to my dismay all the hunky firemen must of been out on ‘proper’ jobs and i ended up with the old slightly overweight ones. That shattered that dream!! It didn’t quite do it for me the way i had imagined it too!!! After a few smirks to Andre and a few giggles, the firemen popped the window and pushed it through. (for any stupid mums who might find themselves in this situation, always call the fire service as if you smash a window without specialised equipment, the glass shatters into tiny tiny pieces that can be breathed in and cause serious harm). As Volkswagens have a fairly good alarm system on them, the unlock button wouldn’t work as it wouldn’t unarm the alarm. So, the old guy in charge ordered the largest of the 8 men to climb through the back window to grab the keys off Forrest who was now completely silent. Probably wondering who the hell was climbing through the back window and who all the people were, who were peering at him like a caged monkey. The poor bloke grabbed the keys and clicked unlock and i acted like Queen mum and scooped up my not so little bundle of joy and kissed him like he’d been away from home for 17 years. The other fire men started packing the things away and were stood muttering and laughing with Andre, obviously about his stupid wife but i chose to close my ears. After 2 minutes or so, i saw the large guy who still had his foot poking out the back window tapping on the window saying “erm…can you let me out please i think the child lock is on”. Poor bugger. I then had to drive to work with a window out. Obviously i didn’t think about taping a bag over it. Driving down the motorway at 70mph with a window out was probably not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. It literally nearly burst my eardrum. But i blame the 9 month old.
Anyway, the day was saved. Forrest was fine. Andre was £75 lighter (for the new window) and i felt like queen prat. The moral of this story? Don’t ever let your child hold your car keys. It wastes time. Makes you look an idiot. Causes needless drama. Makes you late for work. And spends the £75 you were hoping to spend in Zara online that night.
“I figure that if the children are alive when I get home, I’ve done my job.” —Roseanne Barr