Let me forewarn you. It is a little like Family Circus at the Smith's home. Sometimes I'm so worn out that all I want to do is crawl into my soft and warm bed. This was one of those nights. I had worked my fingers to the bone around the house (cleaning, running errands and such). The football game started at 7:00 p.m. and it didn't finish until after 10:00 p.m.. Rick was on call the entire holiday weekend in Carrollton and the boys wanted to go to the after game "Bash". The "Bash" is hosted by a local church and our YMCA. Middle school age (Ian) go to the church. High school age (Ryan) go to the Y. While the boys were mingling with friends and eating Cheetos, Gracie and I drove........and we drove......and we drove. We drove/sat in the car for over an hour. It was boring and the hour seemed like 20 hours. Then my little monkey fell asleep. That was good and bad for me. It was bad because, I had no one to talk to. It was good because, I had no one to talk to.
So, finally.......I had collected all the kiddos and we headed home. We pulled into the driveway at nearly 12:00 a.m.. My eyes were burning because I was so tired. I barely had the rig in park before I was opening my door to run to the bed.
I'm all nestled under the covers and it's warm and cozy. I drift off to dreamland. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Then a noise woke me from my slumber at 12:45 a.m.. After I sat up in bed and tried to knock down the cobwebs, I realized that it was the doorbell. I was a little spooked but I figured that it was an electrical glitch. Then, out of nowhere comes at least 15 more dings on the doorbell. OK, I'm sorta panicked. I'm in my long purple night gown with bleach spots on the front. You know, Rick's favorite! I'm trying my very best to collect myself. THE DOORS!!! Make sure the doors are locked! All the upstairs doors are secure. I make a bee-line to the basement for two reasons.
#1. I need to make sure that those doors are locked.
#2. I need to make sure that my teenage boy is where he is supposed to be! (Why is that always a mom's first thought in these situations. Welp, must be the teenager!)
The teen was sitting in front of the T.V.. ASLEEP! This was also good and bad news. The good news is that he was where he was supposed to be. The bad news is that it isn't him ringing the door bell!
In my part crying.....part whispering (we need to be quiet so the burglar won't hear us).....part WAKE THE %$#@ UP NOW voice, I startled Ryan awake. I'm not sure what I thought my 15 year old was going to do to help me. Maybe he could cover my back when I went after the intruder with my open bolt, blowback-operated sub machine gun. Oh wait, I don't have an open bolt, blowback-operated sub machine gun. No........I have a 15 year old who is now threatening to go outside and beat the intruder up. NICE! You might be glad to know that I didn't allow that.
By now, the doorbell has been run at least 596 times. Ryan is officially as freaked out as I am. I am standing in the kitchen trying to think of my next move. RICK! I'm going to call Rick! I will call him because if I am overreacting, he will calm me down. He will help me realize that this is all just a very bad dream and I'm really still cuddled in my warm and cozy bed.
While I am explaining the situation to my beloved husband, someone starts banging on the windows. And now the door! I'm also hearing a voice. I know for sure now that this isn't an electrical glitch. This is a real-live Freddy Kruger at my door. I am beyond words at this point. My voice is cracking with fear as I'm talking to Rick. My guess is that he hears the fear and he told me to call the police.
I dial 911 because this seemed like an emergency to me.
Dispatcher: "911, please state your emergency".
Me: "Ummm....I'm probably overreacting, but someone is ringing my doorbell and knocking on my windows".
Dispatcher: "What is your address"?
Me: I tell him
Dispatcher: "Please stay on the line while I dispatch someone to your location".
While I'm holding on the phone with 911, I notice Ryan is trying to catch a peek out the dining room windows. Then he says, "Mom..........it's Gracie!!!!!!!!"
I'm still on hold with the dispatcher from 911, so I say....................
Me: Sir......sir, it was my daughter. OMG, it was my daughter! Sorry, sooooo sorry!
Gracie fell asleep in the rig.
The boys and I piled out of the car once the car was in the garage and the engine was off.
Gracie did not pile out of the car.
Gracie was still sleeping.
I locked all the doors and the sleeping beauty could not get in.
When sleeping beauty woke up in the car and could not get in the locked doors, SHE FREAKED!
Now my fear has subsided and a huge helping of guilt lands on me. My poor daughter. My poor red-head. My poor husband. The poor 911 dispatcher who took my call.
Gracie then crawled into bed with me and we laughed. We laughed cause it was over. We laughed because she wasn't a burglar or Freddie Kruger. We laughed because her mother is a fruit cake!
For you viewing pleasure, Gracie and I did a mini reenactment of our traumatic night.
Moral of the story....
Make sure all the monkeys are out of the car before you lock the doors.