As I contemplate leaving this home we have lived in for the last 5 years, my mind has been overflowing with memories of laughter, love, tears, joy, friendships, sorrow, fear, and other feelings that have filled these walls and made it our home.
So. Please indulge me as I take a walk down memory lane and share my thoughts with you over the next 2-3 weeks.
It was a normal morning. The 7am alarm clock (two kids crying) awoke me and started my day. The smell of pancakes filled the air and my lips still felt wet, remembering the kiss my husband gave me as he rushed out the door to work. As I layed my 7 week old baby on the boppy, to give him some "tummy time," my sweet 2-year old, Taylor, was also pulling at my nightgown begging me to retrieve her Care Bear toy from the car. After laying that cute baby on his tummy, I walked out the kitchen door, and into the garage to retrieve the much needed toy.
As I attempted to re-enter the house, the door was locked! I was in my short, ugly, nursing nightgown, in the garage, barefoot, without a bra on, and no keys to unlock the door. My 2-year old had locked the door. As I tried to talk to her, through the door, and explain to her that she needed to try to unlock the door and let mommy back in, all she could say was "hee hee, not yet mom."
I completely panicked! Two children under the age of 2, alone in the house. I opened the garage and ran around the back of the house to see if maybe one of the doors or windows had been left unlocked or open. As I peered through the window, Taylor was dancing around, and Luke (on his tummy) was crying and sliding farther and farther down onto the boppy. I began to scream and cry. I thought my baby was going to suffocate! I ran back to my car hoping my cell phone had been left in it. Sure enough it had. As I called Devon, screaming and crying (totally hysterical!), I continued to try and coax Taylor into unlocking the door...she couldn't do it.
By this time, Luke was completely face down into the boppy. Devon had turned around to come home, but was still quite a ways away. He told me to break the window. I grabbed a loose brick from our planter and pounded it into the window several times. It didn't break as easily as you see it happen on t.v. After breaking the window, I squoze myself through the tiny hole, cutting my feet and legs, to rescue my baby. As I picked him up, he was breathing and asleep!
As I sat on the floor, crying, and cuddling my babies, Devon raced through the door. At first, all he saw was me, still crying hysterically, and blood all over the floor. He thought for sure someone had died. Once, I settled down, he realized we were all o.k.
That is definitely a memory that cannot be forgotton about this house. The screen in the back window is still torn and we keep a hide-a-key in case a similar incident should occur. Needless to say, someone was definitely looking down on us and watching over us that day!