Progress: What a Day

I knew the day was going to be different when I woke up at 5AM for the usual potty break and quick snack before the alarm goes off and found my son snoozing on a pile of blankets on the automan in the living room. He crawled back into bed with me for about 15 minutes, then wandered back to his room (refusing to let me escort him) to doze until closer to 6:30. My son, he is odd. Gets it from his father. See the amusing tidbit, though, for the other oddness of the day (regrettably, I can't foist this one off on Daddy).

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 970
Total words: 67,311 (24,311)
Musical stylings: More ambient stuff
Munchies: More cheddar rice cakes

Mean Things: Threatening to bring in the lawyers, more pompous patronizing BS, lashing out at friends because you can't thrash the one who deserves it
Placeholder of the day: More vague words about policy this and SOP that

Amusing Tidbit from Kellie's Day: I neglected to blog about this, but several weeks ago, I managed to lock Drew in the car in the Safeway parking lot in the 80 sunshine. I had tossed the keys into the diaper bag after shutting off the car and, on my way to get Drewbie out, I hit the powerlock on the driver door in what I can only explain was a brief flashback to the days when I drove around by myself and would lock the car on my way out the door. I flagged someone down to call the cops so they could either open the door themselves or dispatch a locksmith posthaste. I managed to keep my cool, and Drew seemed to be having a blast despite the car getting up into the high 90s (he kept saying "stuck!" over and over and laughing). Being surrounded by people willing to help and then the cops understanding the situation helped immensely. It was quick work getting the door open and, of course, once Drew was unbuckled, he wanted to run around and play inside the car for a bit as if the whole ordeal had been fun of the first order. I hugged him and laughed the thing off as best I could, making big plans to get spare keys made and so on.

Then today, it happened again, only in much less worrisome circumstances. And, of course, both Drew and I handled it worse. This time, though, it really was Drew's fault. We were getting into the car to go to my mom's for some swimming. Drew decided it would be fun to play in the car. He even got the keys in the ignition and started the car with a little help from me. AC on, music playing, I kept the door by his car seat open as he flicked the power locks on and off and pretended to drive. Eventually I got him into his seat and buckled in. I shut the door and went to the driver's side, only to find the door locked. And that's when it hit me: he had last power locked the doors before I corralled him, and now the car was sealed up tight with the diaper bag (read: my phone, and we only have cell phones, no LAN lines).

Feeling like ten times an idiot, I trotted across the street to get help, and had a grand ol' self-effacing time explaining what had happened, and that, silly me, six years of higher education never come in handy when you need it most, and you can only fight the blonde so much before it wins and so on. They lent me a phone and I called the same locksmith who got me out of this mess the first time.

Then the monster dust storm hit. Drew was fine, of course, sealed up in the car. With the car running, however, I had to keep the garage door open and deal with sand and grit blasting me. I would've ducked into the house, only Drew was very upset at being stuck in his car seat and listening to Tori Amos instead of watching Finding Nemo.

Well, suffice to say that, first thing tomorrow morning (well, not quite; running the car for a half hour without going anywhere and cranking the AC used up more gas than I had thought), Drew and I will wander to said locksmith and make several spares of this damn car key: one for the house, one for my mother, one for Daddy. This WILL NOT happen again. It's one thing to feel inadequate as a parent because of my own insecurities and issues with perfectionism. It's quite another to have evidence shoved under your nose twice in two months.

Physical therapy contortions: Still to come.