Need a vacation? I do. Here’s how I know. Spoiler: it involves the police and is terribly humiliating.
We all get to that point where we just don’t function as well as we should. So we need a tune up. Or, in human terms, a vacation. I’m at that point. I need a vacation. Here’s how I know:
I’m going to preface this story by explaining that I slept very little last night. Since our daughter has recently discovered the joy of throwing herself over the rail of her crib, we decided to remove it so that she wouldn’t injure herself. Super responsible, I know. Well, it turns out that while responsible, it is truly a nightmare. She was up ALL NIGHT. Therefore, so were we. There was no sleep to be had. How is a person to function? Consider this the excuse for any of my questionable behaviour.
Despite the lack of sleep, life goes on. There’s animals to feed, kids to feed, preschool drop off, dentist appointments, plants to water, eggs to collect and wash… Just all sorts of stuff that doesn’t stop. When Emilene went down for her nap, the boys and I went out to collect eggs. I need them along with me because I have a bird phobia. Yes, I’m the chicken lady with a bird phobia. More on this in a future post.
Our 5 year old, Weston, distracts the chickens with some hen scratch, and the 3 year old, Walker, is my body guard. I know, I know. You’re more impressed with me every sentence you read… right?
Anyway, we collected all the eggs, and then the rain storm really began. I sent the boys back in the house to dry off and listen for Emi waking up, while I went back out to the greenhouse to water plants. I was thoroughly enjoying my quiet time in the warmth of the green house while listening to the rain pattering on the plastic. However, since my kids were inside, I had to hurry. Turning to leave, I pushed at the greenhouse door. It wouldn’t open. I pushed harder, I kicked… IT WOULD NOT OPEN.
Any mama’s reading this know that you slip into immediate panic mode in these situations. Are the kids OK? Did an ax murderer lock me in here so that he could kidnap my children? Immediately, worst case scenarios seem like the only plausible option. I tried my hardest to break out. There was kicking, running, jumping, a bit of punching. Nothing worked. I tried calling everyone I could think of who might be near enough that they could come open the greenhouse for me. No one was answering.
The only option (I could see) in that moment was to call the police. It may seem drastic, but I was panicked. And like I said, I was only imagining worst case scenarios. I was so happy to see the officer, through the crack of the door, walking up to the greenhouse. I just wanted to go check on my kids. The officer opened the door from the outside and promptly stepped into the greenhouse. He reached to the other side of the door jamb and pulled a string… effectively showing me that the whole time I was panicking and trying to kick down walls, I could have pulled a tiny little string to release the lock from the inside. He figured that out in about 3 seconds having never seen the greenhouse before. Let me tell you… Not a good moment for my pride.
He was really nice and didn’t make me feel stupid at all. He was very reassuring… told me I did the right thing calling them, empathized with the panic I must have been feeling… But lets be real. They went back to the station and laughed their faces off about the blonde girl in gum boots who thought she “locked” herself in a plastic greenhouse. Plastic. Really. I should have just sliced a hole in the wall with the pointy end of a watering can. Or used the handy pull string to unlock it from the inside. But hey. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that stuff.
The officer wanted to come in to “check on the kids” he said. He was probably just wanting to make sure I didn’t have 8000 dolls that I thought were my children.
This is just one example of why I know I need a vacation. And I should really be more humiliated by this. But it seems I can’t stop staring out my kitchen window at this adorable little plastic greenhouse that was my prison cell this afternoon. My own ridiculousness should not be so funny for me. I must truly need a vacation.
I think I’ll walk next door and check myself into the B&B. Crepes are what I will order for breakfast. With strawberries. And I think I’ll eat my crepes in bed while watching Netflix. I will leave feeling refreshed. No longer will I lock myself in greenhouses. Or mumble incoherently due to exhaustion after 6:30 PM. Or drive down the highway yelling to the person with the fluctuating speed in the next lane to “just let me live my life!” Because all those things… Vacation fixes that.