The Gagging Dead-Bolt

If you have three pieces of bread with your dinner last night and since the butter is low-fat, does that make it okay??

I accomplished a lot yesterday while the boys were both at school. I went to Zumba (the instructor is an animal who never stops), I wrote and posted for my blog (check and check), showered and actually applied a little bit of make-up and did two loads of laundry. I have a confession. I’m risking myself here by sharing (look away, Mad Dog, look away if you are reading this). I like to leave clean and folded baskets of laundry at the base of our stairs for two reasons. First, Mad Dog always carries them upstairs for me (thank you, dear!) and, secondly, I like to have actual physical evidence for Mad Dog that I accomplished something while the boys are at school and he is at work. Does anyone else do that? Just me?

Even though my day was quietly productive, at about one in the afternoon the pit of Tae Kwon Do preparation/dread starts to form. I’m hoping with time these Wednesday practices will become more routine and a little less overwhelming. I’m guessing this will happen when the boys are, oh, I don’t know, five to ten years older. Until then I must proceed with a warrior’s heart.

I picked them up from school and my truck is packed to the gills with everything needed for Tae Kwon Do practice. As we park and make our way to class, Full Speed says, “Remember when I carried my scrambled eggs to our table just like a waiter? That was so cool!” We had experienced a lovely brunch-buffet on the Sunday prior (the boys were remarkably composed) and at one point, Full Speed did carry his own freshly made eggs from the buffet back to our table. I remember it a little differently. It was not like a waiter at all. He carried it more like a drunken sailor. The plate and his gait swayed unsteadily back and forth with the eggs sliding dangerously from side to side. All I could see were the lovely white table linens surrounded by lovely dressed diners and prayed the eggs would make it to the our table and not on anyone else’s (eventually they did).

Full Speed is nearing five years old. I like to have him do as much as possible to feel he is mastering life. So when he said he needed to pee while I was changing T.Puzzle into his Tae Kwon Do uniform in my favorite, tiny dressing room of all time, I dismissively said, “Sure, I’ll come check on you in a minute.”

You can see where this is going, can’t you. Yep, Full Speed managed to dead-bolt himself into the bathroom and was beginning to panic. I started with the nervous laughter. Some of the laughter was genuine because I could see the irony. Full Speed’s independence is suppose to make my life easier and ironically, it makes it harder sometimes. Some of the laughter was to mask my own panic. As the instructor came over to diffuse the situation and talk Full Speed through how to properly turn the dead-bolt, I was surreptitiously appraising the door handle wondering how easily it could be unscrewed from the door.

After a couple tense moments (that seemed like years), Full Speed managed to unlock himself and proceed to have an excellent class. Meanwhile, I was trying to determine if I should have grabbed that tiny bottle of alcohol from one of Mad Dog’s business flights that we have stashed in the kitchen. I was wishing it was stashed in my diaper bag right about now.

I get everyone situated on the perimeter of the mat and then it happens; a full-blown, level 10 meltdown courtesy of T.Puzzle. He is screaming, “Mommy! Mommy!” and lunging and reaching for me with great force. He also has this neat trick if he cries too hard that he makes theses vomitous, gagging sounds and if we’re really lucky, actually vomits. So he’s hacking and gagging and I’m ready to dead-bolt myself in the bathroom that Full Speed was just in and never, ever come out.

The instructor saved my behind again (I really need his home number so he can baby-sit sometime). He managed to talk T.Puzzle down from the ledge after a good ten minutes of hysterics. T.Puzzle had a wonderfully fun class and I kept wishing my shoulders weren’t permanently locked up around my neck indicating my high level of internal stress. Just between you and me, I’m packing the mini-vodka in my diaper bag for the next class just in case.