Today I locked the children in the car. Not as some Victorian discpline method but in my usual throw everything (including the baby and toddler) into their car seats, changing bag in, extra bag of back up items in, and general excessive amount of stuff I have to take for the most mimimal of trips in. However, a minor slip up in the process meant the lock button had been pressed and the closing of door after chucking of keys onto the driving seat resulted in me imprisoning my babies in a window-closed metal box in a heatwave. Well done me.
Despite trying the doors approximately 4,392 times I realised they were not going to open by the method of hope and I had myself a problem.
Adrenalin is a strange beast. You think you’re awake and then the immediate surge of it shooting through your body makes you really really awake and aware. Along with the sinking feeling of a fuck up. The moment when there’s no going back and now my actions don’t just affect me.
I didn’t even have my phone (again in the car already) but thankfully was at a friend’s house so frantically used hers to call the breakdown service. Hurray a mammoth on-hold queue. My anger mirroring my baby’s screams and my daughter’s increasingly hot looking little face peering out the window at me.
Luckily we were treated as an emergency once I’d made contact and the breakdown service took another 20 minutes to arrive before the man popped open the door. And so too have I learnt the true meaning of relief.
I keep asking myself when I will know when I’ve grown up – maybe responsibility of two children means I have?