Why Mom Lost It This Christmas

After reading Crafty Chica’s hilarious flying-Christmas-tree story, I had to share my own account of how I managed to become the hysterical woman locked out of her own home this Christmas.

This happened very recently and is very much freshly-engraved forever in my memory now.

We are in the midst of holiday break around here. That just means the kids have two weeks off from school, and as for Edgar, this means he has time to spare and he uses most of it to sleep. You’ll understand why that’s significant in a moment.

So here we go, this is my embarrassing story.

At the moment, we only have one working car. Every morning Juan drops me off at my mom’s house so I can use her car to make small commutes throughout the day as I need to. This past Tuesday was no different. The only difference was that Edgar was fast asleep in the house too. Before we left that morning I lightly tapped him on the shoulder and told him I would be right back. He nodded and just asked that I not take too long. I assured him I would not since I was only picking up the car from his grandmother’s house two blocks away.

Juan dropped me off. I went inside, greeted my mother, picked up the car keys, and went on my merry way back home. I hadn’t taken my house keys with me because I figured I wouldn’t need them since Edgar was inside. I knew he was asleep, but I figured he would wake up to come open the door for me.

There I was, knocking on the door, a couple of light taps at first, and then a few harder knocks since no one was coming to let me in. Still no response. I began banging on the door a little bit harder. I only had one hand available at the moment since I was holding the plate of cookies I had taken from Juan in my other hand, but I was still banging the door pretty hard. Still no response.

At this point I start to panic. My heart is at my throat now!

“Why is he not answering?”

“Something must be wrong!”

Now I’m just kicking the door, watching the front wall of my wooden house vibrate as I kick harder and harder. I’m also calling him on his phone and still nothing.

“There is no way… how is he not hearing this!?”

I hurry to the side of the house and start knocking on the window of the bedroom where I left him. I think I’m knocking, but I must have been pounding the window. SMASH! Glass bounces back onto my feet and I notice the top layer of the double glass window is now shattered. Still NOTHING.

I’m in full panic mode now.

“Something has to be wrong!”

I rush to the back door, pick up the shovel sitting next to the wall, and start jamming it between the door and the wall to get it open. All the while I’m now screaming his name just in case he is scared and awake inside now. I figure if he didn’t hear me kicking the door and breaking the glass on the window, he has to hear me going at the back door with a shovel. At this point he must be dialing 911, hiding under a bed, right? STILL NOTHING!!

I manage to pop the door open and run to where I know he should be.

There he is… lying down exactly as I left him.

And then, this final thought creeps into my mind.

“Oh, please be ok…”

I grab the cover swing it off his body and yell, “EDGAR!!”

He responds, wiping away the sleep from his face… “huh?”

Relieved, I just begin to lose it now.

“How are you not hearing all of this noise!?”

“Edgar what is wrong with you!?”

“Did you not hear the glass break!?”

“Oh my God!! How did you not hear all of this!?”

By now, I’ve just scared the poor sleeping boy who even at this moment is still not fully awake.

I try and compose myself and with the little dignity I have left I send him off to take a shower because that’s the only thing I can possibly think of to do at that very moment.

I can still feel the wrath of shame that came over me for having yelled at the poor boy who was only trying to enjoy his holiday vacation.

I think it’s safe to say I won’t be leaving the house without my keys anymore.