I had one of those moments yesterday, in what can only be described as a clusterf**k. Several days prior, Ann (Dano's mom) and I had decided that we were in need of martinis and edamame (google it, then go try some. It's delish and great for you). We actually managed to get a nice group together - Dano's cousin Sam and Ann's good friend Kristin. All of us were mothers in need of a few hours without children or significant others. The plan was to meet at L'attitude. Dano told me to call his dad sometime in the late afternoon to see when he was picking us up, dropping me off, and taking Lilah for a few hours until Dano got out of work.
In lounge clothes still at 4:00 (anyone who has every cared for an infant understands the futility of getting dressed more than 2 minutes before walking out the door), I called Larry to see around what time he was coming over. Apparently, he and his friend Tyler had wrapped up a waterfall hike and were just minutes away. I frantically threw some clothes on and packed Lilah's bag like a madwoman. They arrived just as I was finishing. Larry went shopping in our movie collection and decided to borrow Rocky Horror Picture Show. I didn't care, since I hated it anyway. We loaded up, and I locked the door behind me as Larry was buckling Lilah's car seat base into the back seat. I had a dark-cloud-over-the-sun feeling after I shut the door, since I realized I hadn't grabbed a spare set of keys (since Dano took the more desirable set). I shrugged it off, since I would be coming home with Dano.
Halfway to Marquette, Larry realized that Rocky Horror was still happily hanging out on top of the Suzuki. After several expletives burst from him, I suggested going back, since it most likely hadn't made it out of our alley before sliding off the roof of the car. Halfway back to the house, I realized that in my insane attempt to pack everything Lilah would need (on a side note, WHY do infants need an entire entourage to spend 3 hours away from their mothers?), I had grabbed a frozen bag of milk, but neglected to grab the clean bottles out of the cupboard. "No problem," I thought. "We're already headed back. I'll just grab them out of the house." I'm sure the issue here occurred to anyone reading this before it occurred to me. Wait for it. "OH MY GOSH, I locked the door." I started panicking. We were almost home, and brainstorming rapidly. I realized the door to the balcony was unlocked. Our house is strange. You open the "downstairs door" to an entryway, walk up some stairs to a landing. Off the landing is the balcony, cleaning supplies closet, then the "real" door to the house, which is never locked. The "downstairs door" is the one that locks. "If there's a ladder in the shed, maybe I could climb onto the balcony and get into the house that way." This is a photo of the balcony from the landing.
Rocky Horror was rescued unharmed from the street, and Tyler, Larry and I got out of the car to tackle the next part of the ordeal. The only ladder available was the questionable-looking wooden thing that led up to the loft in the shed. However, it was unattached, so we commandeered it and set it up against the balcony. The top rung of the ladder fell glaringly short of the desired height. It just barely made it to the gutter. Take a look.
After a moment of silence, Tyler generously offered to scale the tree next to the house and leap from limb to landing. After telling him the branch he would need to leap from had a nest full of about a thousand baby birds and a protective mother, quiet settled over the group again. I swallowed hard. My baby had to eat, and I was running late. I set the ladder next to the house and asked the two men to hold the sides of the wobbly ladder, since I would obviously have to stand on the top rung. Then my arms would barely able to wrap around the balcony wall. Provided I had enough upper-body strength to pull my entire body from the top of the dangerous ladder over the balcony, I could break into the house and we'd be all set.
I got all the way to the second-to-top rung before my practical brain started screaming, "STOP! DON'T! THIS IS ABSURD! YOU'LL FALL AND BREAK YOUR LEG/ARM/SPINE!" I hushed my brain and asked the men, "If I stand on the top rung, will it wobble or fall?" Larry encouragingly replied, "I hope not." With that reassurance, I wrapped my arms around the balcony wall and stood on the top. The ladder swayed cheerfully in the spring breeze. I took a deep breath and thought, "The things I do for love." I'd heard motherhood gives you superhuman abilities. I now know this to be true. I did an epic pull-up move (which is impressive, since I was never able to accomplish a pull-up before in my life, after many unsuccessful attempts), and swung my suspended leg over the balcony. Seriously, I'm sure I looked as cool as Wolverine, or another nimble mutant of some sort. I gave a victory shout, ran into the house, and came out through the door with an arm full of bottles and a set of spare keys. My heart was racing, and I had enough adrenaline going to cause even the most dedicated pot-head to sign up for and run a marathon, but my baby had food.
Speaking of my baby, she was in the back seat of the car shrieking her head off, thinking she'd been abandoned. I got dropped off at L'attitude, had a BMW (Baileys, Malibu, and Whiskey) in a fun martini glass with an orange peel, got my edamame fix, and after about 30 minutes, my heart slowed to its regular, steady pace. Ann told me that motherhood entails doing many, many things you never thought you would do. I believe her.
