I had this great post all written in my head about how much self-control it took not to haul off and yell at this little unsupervised b-r-a-t kid at the library who screamed in my kids' faces because they were playing in the reading bathtub and she for some reason thought it was HER reading bathtub and chose to express herself by screaming angrily in the face of a one-year-old child. And about how much more self control it took not to yell at her dad who arrived on scene minutes later to find me consoling my two terrified children while his sweet little angel loomed over me and told ME that it was HER bathtub and then responded by saying what amounted to "Huh" then walked back into the Juniors Easy Reading section as his adorable little precious yelled unprovoked at an adult stranger.
But then I locked myself out of my farking car.
After spending two and a half gleefully well-behaved hours out in public, I sensed that we needed to get to a private location, pronto, before the dearies succumbed to their natural impulses. I calmly and patiently led Charlie through the process of putting all the toys away at the coffee shop despite his preference for lying on the floor moaning about not wanting to go home. Based on experience I figured I had about thirty minutes until blast off, which would give me just enough time to do our weekly shopping at the grocery store on the way home. I paid for our order, chatted briefly with the owner of the store, and began digging through my purse for my keys. They were not there.
Instead they were inside the back of my car. My locked car. Sooo helpful.
I lugged everyone back into the coffee shop then sat on the couch in defeat, Ryan's voicemail in my ear, a maniacal Charlie upside-down across my lap with his foot on my shoulder. I declined to leave a message and called back. He excused himself from a meeting, expecting some kind of emergency and instead got his borderline hysterical wife jabbering on about the keys being locked in the freaking car and being trapped out in public with the Over-Stimulated Brothers. Please HELP.
He said he would have to finish the meeting but would come as soon as he could.
Naturally I called Labmama so I could complain about my rotten luck with someone else who gets it. We devised several intricate plans to get me back to my house; Most involved her having decided several months ago to buy a car with a third row and several involved me being smart enough to have given her a copy of my house and car key for this very reason.
Long story short, an hour and fifteen minutes later Ryan and I were each carrying an hysterical child out of the library. The boys and I went home and Ryan went back to work. Wes took a nap that ended just about the time he normally goes to bed. And we never made it to the grocery store and ate scrambled eggs for dinner. First item on tomorrow's to-do list? Make copies of keys. Give to neighbors.