Bruno Mars has that catchy tune about being locked out of Heaven. I listen to it and think, “I’ve been there, man, but it wasn’t Heaven I was locked out of, it was my apartment.” This happened at our old apartment, the one we just moved out of not so long ago.
And so begins the worst bedtime story ever.
Once upon a time, it was our first day having all three kids together and we decided to go swimming at the pool to celebrate our blended family-ness. There was much debate about whether there should be bringing of the smartphones or no. Team Tween voted yes, Team Parents voted NO. Ultimately, it was decided no, because we are the bosses and we told Team Tween phones might get stolen and it was best not to risk it. We also decided I didn’t need my purse. We were taking the van, so we wouldn’t need my keys either. We grabbed our gear and had a great time at the pool.
The Dilemma
Hours later, we pulled up to the condo in our minivan and everyone piled out. My beloved reached for his keys and realized he only had the van keys, not the apartment keys.
This was a summary of our conversation (in shouty caps to demonstrate my passionate tone):
- HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?
- WHY WOULD YOU NOT KEEP YOUR HO– USE KEYS WITH THE VAN KEYS?
- WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL OF THEM TOGETHER MAKE YOUR KEYCHAIN TOO BULKY?
- I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU PUT YOUR KEYCHAIN ON A DIET AND NOW THE KIDS ARE HUNGRY AND WE CAN’T GET IN THE HO– USE, WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
- YOUR SLENDER KEY CHAIN IS GONNA COST US MONEY ON A LOCKSMITH, DID YOU THINK OF THAT?
- HOW ARE WE EVEN GOING TO CALL A LOCKSMITH WITH EVERYONE’S PHONES INSIDE?
We buzzed our landlord hoping he would let us in. He was at a basketball game, because he has a life. We were in a pickle but far away from our actual pickles, which were in the fridge, behind the locked door of our house.
We got back into the van and the kids were being kids, boisterous, making the minivan echo with their Rihanna renditions and laughter. With no phones, no purse and no keys, we did what any desperate people would do. We drove to my ex’s house and prayed he would be home and take pity on us. After all, he’s my son’s dad and taking pity on us is a market he has cornered a number of times over the years, bless him forever and a day.
The Hero Enters The Scene
Thankfully, he was! My ex came downstairs and listened to my tale of woe with a bemused expression on his face. He got on the phone and started calling locksmiths for me. His calls went something like this.
“Hey man. I have an emergency. My ex wife is here with all of these kids and they won’t leave my house until they can get into their house. What? You’re having dinner. Oh cool, what’s for dinner? Subway? What’s great about Subway is that it’s really portable, you could even eat it while you are driving over here to let my ex-wife into her house.”
Unfortunately, the locksmith did not consider his dinner to be portable. He made an appointment to let us in soon-ish, unwilling to bow to our unreasonable demands. Meanwhile, we had all these hungry kids and no purse. My son’s dad took one more for the team and fed us all. He really is super. Best ex-husband ever.
All the time I’m thinking “I can’t believe I’m spending a hundred dollars to get into our house because someone didn’t want a fat keychain. Think of all the cargo shorts for carrying fat keychains that money would have otherwise bought. Le sigh.”
The Happy Ending
Eventually we were back into our apartment and that’s the story of the time when the man who holds the keys to my heart did not ALSO hold the keys to my apartment. So I get it, Bruno. Getting locked out sucks, whether it’s heaven or your apartment, it sucks.
ONE DAY THIS WILL BE FUNNY. It’s a motto in our house (one we will never get locked out of again because someone has a fat key chain whether he likes it or not.)
(This post originally appeared on Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops)
