I Keep On Knocking But I Can't Come In

How was my evening tonight, you ask?

Why, it was GRAND.

NO.

SUPER GRAND.

SUPER GRAND WITH A BIG FAT SIDE OF BUSTED UP RIGHT-CHEEK BONE.

Obviously, there's a story here... and please allow me to preface this story by expressing how much I love my children. I love them like a fat kid loves cake. I gotta have them. I gotta eat them up as often as possible. Because they are adorable. And hilarious. And I digress.

There might be some foul language in this story. Not really directed AT my kids, Grace, in particular, who is the STAR of this story, but foul language directed mostly at her actions earlier this evening. Her action. Singular, actually.

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I hear my cell phone ring. I stop. I listen. The ringing is coming from my bedroom.

I run from the laundry room, down the hall, dodge a small choo-choo train, leap over a plastic shovel and I get to my bedroom door.

I grabbed the door handle, with lots of momentum, (keep in mind I'm running)  and SLAM FACE FIRST INTO THE FUCKING DOOR.

It's locked.

I let out a little laugh, because OMG if Terry would have seen it, he would have been on the floor "ROFLMAO." (Or whatever the kids are saying these days.) Then - the pain hits and and I let out a little whimper. And then I feel the steam shooting out of my ears like it does in the cartoons. "GIIIIIIRRRRRLLLLLSSSSSS!!!!!!!"

Ava gets to me first, because, hellllloooo, she just felt the entire house shake from her mom SLAMMING FACE FIRST INTO THE FUCKING DOOR.

Ava happily tattles on Grace, and says she's the one who locked it.

I grabbed Grace and warned her about locking doors. And sternly said "What if there was a fire and you were trapped and Mommy couldn't get to you?" And blah blah, trying to make it sound serious. She starts BALLING. Huge tears, and everything.  "I scared of locked doors wiffout you Mommy!" "I don't want fire, Mommy!"

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The key won't work. I walked around the house locking the other bedroom door knobs and of course it works for EVERY OTHER DAMNED DOOR IN THE HOUSE EXCEPT FOR THE ONE THAT IS LOCKED FOR REAL.

---

So here I sit. At the computer. Blogging.

I could catch up on Words With Friends. I could answer my phone when it rings. I could play a stupid game. I could do without the huge knot I have on my right cheek from SLAMMING FACE FIRST INTO A FUCKING DOOR. But I can't do any of those things. Because my phone is still trapped behind a damn door.

I could not be so upset with Grace. I could sneak into her room, crawl across her floor, pick her up and rock her in my arms while singing "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be," you know, like that creepy old lady did in that one book?

I definitely will not do that. That's way creepy. I don't care what you say.

I'll settle for making her favorite blueberry pancakes in the morning, look her in the eyes and tell her Mommy's sorry for getting so upset. Then she will ask why my face is purple, and I will let her do one of her most favorite things: bandage me up with one of her Hello Kitty band-aids.

That will make it all better. :)

That,  and hopefully Terry gets home soon to figure out a way to open the damn thing.