The One Where Mama Dials 911...

Well, we've had a good run, right? He'll be two years on Monday and we've had no late night trips to the ER, no major scares or anything like that. So that's something.

Today, however, that run came to an abrupt halt when I found myself separated from my child a layer of glass and steel. Because I locked him in the car. In 80 degree weather. Because I am AWESOME.

It wasn't intentional (duh), but that doesn't do much to assuage the "oh, how do I suck? let me count the waysiness" of it all. While Husband has been out gallivanting in LA (read: working and finding housing for us), I've been driving his fancy "buy this car and get a free iPhone" car as a treat. And it was a treat until about 3:30 this afternoon.

Here's the situation. Ethan's birthday party is tomorrow morning, bright and early at 10am and while the house was clean beyond reproach (no, I didn't suddenly learn how to keep house; my mom's been here for days), it was not festive-looking. It neeeeeeeeeded balloons. So I decided to put the child in "daddy cars", as he calls it (see? not a treat just for me), and head to the nearest party store specializing in garish plastic trinkets and mylar-coated elmo balloons. I needed my cell-phone charger from my own far less fancy car, so I put Ethan in his carseat, turned on the A/C for him and closed the door. Upon returning from my own un-fancy car, I found all the doors of Husband's Audi locked. locked. locked.

Each door handled I tried, and found locked, shaved easily 2-3 years off of my life. Good times.

I have a distinct memory of literally spinning in circles, trying to figure out what to do, and muttering "oh my god. oh my god. oh my god." I am so cool under pressure. I tripped on my own feet running back to the house to get the phone to call 911. Thank GAWD Husband insists on keeping his shiny car key separate from all other keys (Audi can't go slumming with basement keys, dearlord!), so my house keys were still in my bag and not dangling from the ignition inside of said locked car.

I considered calling the "non-emergency" number, but then I thought, "MY BABY IS LOCKED IN THE CAR AND I CAN'T GET TO HIM!" Nevermind that he was playing with his Elmo doll and jabbering away to himself, totally unaware of the...um, secure, air-conditioned peril in which he was enmeshed.

After hyperventilating to the 911 dispatcher (I have NO recollection of that call), I went and tried all the doors again. Because, you know, perhaps by force of sheer will I had opened them with my Jedi-mom mind (Husband will be so proud of a Star Wars reference). No such luck, which is sort of okay in hindsight, because can you imagine the embarrassment if the fire department had shown up to me saying, "You know? It's the funniest thing...."

Fortunately my next door neighbor was outside in his back yard and came over to keep me calm and to make silly faces at Ethan through the window. I am eternally grateful for his calming presence, or I may have gnawed my own arm off waiting the 5 minutes it took for the fire trucks to show up. He suggested that perhaps I call the Audi dealership and see if they had any idea of how we might open the car w/out a spare key--some sort of Audi cryptex. Worth a shot, no?

I did indeed call the fancy Audi people. I explained the situation, and asked the man if there was any way to get into the car without breaking a window. I guess a car salesman is a car salesman is a car salesman because the answer I got was more of a sales pitch than a response showing concern for my child's well-being on an 80 degree day, trapped inside his product. While I cannot recall what I said to the 911 operator, I distinctly recall Smarmy McAudi saying, "Ma'am, our cars are so well-built and burglar-proof, you're just not getting into that car. You'll have to break the window."

I'm not 100% sure, but I think he was smug.

My response to him as I heard the fire truck pull up to the front of the house? "Awesome". Prick.

I shared that information with the four firemen who stroll into my backyard (and I can say in hindsight--what a bunch of hotties. Is there a calendar I can buy? You know, to support the force? ), and their reaction? "We will see your smug, Smarmy McAudi and RAISE to full-on invincibility." See, on them "smug" looks good. Not so much on the guy who's telling you it's a shame your kid is trapped in the car, but damn that car is well-built.

Tall burly fireman informs me with a laugh that perhaps the people down at Audi aren't familiar with them. I swear, all he needed was a cape and he would have been a super hero. Is there already a super hero equipped with every type of lock jimmie known to man? Because that could be him, if there's an opening.

After a mere 3-4 minutes of futzing around with this jimmie and that, Ethan's car window magically slides down. My blood pressure goes back down below the "red alert! red alert! Explosion emminent!" line. Fireman #2 reaches in from Ethan's window to the front door and unlocks and opens the front passenger door. I am finally breathing again.

After I fall all over myself gushing thanks to the firemen (again, don't clearly remember what I said, but definitely said stooopid things like, "You are such heroes," and other embarrassing triteness), I dared not even walk to the other side of the car to get into the driver side (yes, I still had to get balloons for my kid's birthday party!), so in front of my neighbor and the firemen, I got into the passenger side of the car and climbed over the gear shift (sexy!) to the driver side. At the time--seemed totally normal. Now? OMFG, how stupid did that have to look???!!!

So yeah. The first ever 911 call by Sarah, both a raging success AND embarrassment. Good times.

When Husband gets home from the airport, I tell him this story. He saunters over to the mail sorter hanging on the wall by our front door. He reaches up into a small compartment and the top. And pulls out the spare key.

Classic.