I admit it; sometimes, I'm a bad mom. Sometimes, I feel like a terrible mom. Overally, I'd like to think that I'm doing a pretty good job, but there are days...and sometimes those days happen a few at a time, which makes for a major blow to the ego. For example:

Adam left for Tuscon last week, which meant that I was a single mom for 7 whole days. Kudos to those who can pull it off, but I just can't. I cannot do it. I hate admitting it, but I'm helpless without my "other half." I guess it's a good lesson to learn how much a team effort is required, but it's also very humbling. In the week that Adam was gone, I felt like I lost control. Suddenly, I could not get any housework or laundry done. My studies suffered. Patrick started acting out, and I felt helpless. The whole week culminated as my sweet baby Patrick (written with a bit of sarcasm) locked himself in my car...with it running...and while strapped into his car seat.

I had already had a crappy day. I had had kind of a crappy week, and that day, Patrick was in a mood, too. We left work about six and nobody else was there. As I walked out, my hands were full, as usual. My bag, Patrick's bag, my water, a blanket, Buzz Lightyear, Woody and a set of car keys were about all that I could hold. Before I strapped Patrick into his seat, I tossed everything into the front seat, including the keys (the car had already been started, via remote start.) As I did it, I knew it wasn't a good idea, but it wasn't the first time I've done that and Patrick didn't know where the lock button was. I was wrong.

As I closed the door, I heard the "switch" sound of all four doors locking. I didn't even realize what had happened until I walked around to my door and tried to get in. Shoot. Locked. No big deal. I walked back around the car and tried to get Patrick to unlock it. I thought that, certainly, he could do it. He wasn't strong enough. He got frustrated and started saying, "No, Mommy. YOU do it!!" I called my parents; there was nothing they could do. I called my sister-in-law, who had been there once before, too. She suggested calling the police. I did.

Within minutes (barely plural...it was very fast), two police cars slid in our tiny street, lights going but no siren....thank God. At this point, Patrick had been in the car about 20 minutes. I had cracked. I was sobbing so hard that I had given myself a bloody nose. And I didn't realize it. Picture me crying, ruddy-faced, with a blood smear up my cheek, because that's exactly what I looked like.

The cops were great. The firemen came, in two full-sized trucks, sirens AND lights going. People came out to watch. I was mortified. Patrick thought it was great. Firetrucks are awesome! He was waving at the cops and taunting the firemen. They couldn't get the car open. Another 20-25 minutes later, they finally succeeded, but not before they had to swarm in on all four doors, which really freaked Patrick out. As they popped the passenger-side door, four of them were in my car in a second, pulling Patrick out of the car seat, offering him a sucker, playing with him, showing him the cool trucks and the lights. He loved it. LOVED it.

By the end of the ordeal, maybe a total of 40-45 minutes, I felt better. I had finally gotten ahold of Adam. He was having a massage. I almost screamed. He asked if the car got scratched. I almost hung up the phone.

Adam came home on Saturday night. I was beyond happy to see him, but it seems as though it took Patrick and I a few extra days to get back to normal...just in time for Adam to leave again this weekend. I'm bracing myself. Coincidentally, my 30th birthday falls during the time that Adam is gone. I'm hoping it's a happy one. Maybe, with one week under our belt, we'll do better this time around. If not, there is a third trip to Montreal planned the first week in April. By then, we should be pros, right?

And my lesson...a very important one...is that I'm not superwoman. I can't do everything. I'd like to think that I can, but I can't. I need Adam. I need his help and I need Patrick's cooperation. We're a good little team when we're all together. When we're not, we're hopeless. I know for sure now. Please see pics below. I wish I had a wide-angled lens to really capture it, but you'll get the picture.

The helpful heroes as they were arriving:


Checking out the kid in the car:




The view looking to the right of the car. An identical view was featured on the left:




Patrick starting to get a little nervous after aboout 40 minutes or so...