Meltdown: A How-To Guide

Maybe it was because Shye decided to wake up at 5:30 am that morning. Maybe it was because I recently gave up my beloved diet Dr. Pepper. Or maybe it was because I'm a blonde. Or maybe it was all of the above that collided and caused me lock my purse, my cell phone, my keys, and....oh yeah, my baby in the car in parking lot of Kohls on Saturday morning. As soon it happened I ran around the car I checking every door and then check them again to see if one just might be unlocked. But nope, they were all locked.

Now, I pride myself in being pretty level headed. A cool cat. I don't get fazed very easily. When I realized my predicament I took a few deep breaths and told myself,  "stay calm, we will figure this out." (Yes, I refer to myself in plural form. All those different personalities.) I immediately ran into the store and up to the nearest cashier and yelled
"MYBABYISLOCKEDINTHECAR!!!
INEEDAPHONEORHANGERORSOMETHING!!
HOWDOIBREAKINTO MYCAR!!!
WHEREISAPHONE?!!
OHMYGOSHIDONTEVENKNOWBRIANSNUMBER!!!
WHATDOIDO???!!"
I was a picture of serenity I tell you. The cashier didn't even blink an eye at my outburst and directed me to customer service where I was allowed to use a phone. I called my mom since hers is pretty much the only number I know by heart and had her give me Brian's number. I called Brian but of course, he didn't answer. (Brian is famous for always being incommunicado whenever there is a crisis. After this debacle I've decided that I'm going to have some sort of  gps/walkie talkie chip implanted in him so that I can just page him whenever I want or need to: "Sweetie, pick up some Taco Bell for dinner, k? Over and out.") I called my mom back and by this point I'm pretty much hysterical. I couldn't think straight. She suggested calling the fire dept. which is exactly what I did next. Or rather the sweet Kohls customer service lady did for me, because I apparently do not know the number for the fire dept. No really. That's what I said. Anyway, so she got hold of a dispatcher and said that the fire dept. was on their way.

By the time I got back down to my car Shye was hysterical. I was already a mess but having to stand there and watch my sweet baby cry for me was torture. I stood at her window and tried to talk to her and comfort her but she was completely inconsolable. After what felt like forever the fire truck came. Sirens and everything. Five or six firemen tumbled out and for the first time in my adult life, I did not notice whether or not the firemen were hot. One of them shouted, "Time me!" as he and three others went to work on getting my door opened. One of them came over to get my information and to try to calm me down. He assured me that this sort of thing happens all the time and that I wasn't a bad person. They got the door open in what was apparently record time, which was good because I was about 10 seconds away from putting my head through a window. I pulled my baby out and hugged her tight. I thanked the firemen as they left, and then Shye and I sat there on the curb and hugged it out. I promised her I would be more careful, that means that from now on, the keys stay on me until baby is out of the car, even if it means I have to hold the keys in my mouth. Shye mostly just sniffled and whimpered in agreement.

After this whole ordeal all I really wanted to do was go home and crawl back into bed. But I didn't want to put Shye back into her carseat just yet. I took her into Kohls to give her time to calm down and to do a little shopping. It's called retail therapy for a reason, right?  We went up to the customer service desk to thank the lady who called the fire dept. The store manager happened to be there and heard the whole story and told me I could have an additional 15% of my purchase. Sometimes it pays to be dramatic.