girlfiend

For some reason our front door won’t open. I ran out yesterday afternoon to pick up our meat order and when I came back I couldn’t unlock the door. It just wouldn’t open. Boyfiend thinks I make this shit up. He thinks there are things I just have trouble with and it’s not because there’s a problem, it’s just a mental block on my part. It’s not true. He just gets used to things not working well and creates systems for making them work.

For example, our inside door (we have an outside door and a small foyer) doesn’t close all the way. He put weatherstripping up and you have to pull really hard to make it close. Only you can’t slam it, you have to pull as hard as you can with a certain amount of finesse so it will latch. It’s a pain in the ass and no one except for us can do it on the first (or second or third) try. When I’m in a hurry, or struggling with a screaming toddler that doesn’t want to leave the house and an overstuffed diaper bag while I’m trying to keep a cat from escaping I sometimes fail to shut the door all the way. Yet he thinks it’s just something I have trouble with, meaning it’s something I shouldn’t have trouble with. I’m not stupid or uncoordinated, it’s just not easy.

Back to the front door. It was the third time it’s happened with the door since we’ve moved in. The first time I was able to jiggle it open, the second time Boyfiend came home and opened it. Both times he convinced me I was just being stupid and the door was fine. This time I jiggled and jiggled, locked and unlocked, and the doorknob just kept turning and turning, never actually making the internal connection it needed to make to open. When we’d run out to get the meat it was late afternoon and warmish. The Fiendling and I were wearing sweaters, but no coats since I knew we’d be in the heated car. After 20 minutes on the porch it was starting to get a little chilly.

I called Boyfiend who was working late and asked him how he opened the door when it wouldn’t open. He had no recollection of either of the previous occurrences, and though he didn’t say so it was obvious that he was convinced he’d be able to open it no problem and I was just freaking out for nothing. I really was freaking out. I was cursing at him because I knew he didn’t believe me and the more I jiggled and turned the doorknob that wouldn’t latch the more frustrated I became. The Fiendling had disappeared into the backyard where his slide, seesaw and rocking fish live. I heard him crying in the backyard and I became even more stressed.

I tried to get in through the back, but the back door has a few different locks and the one we primarily use is just on the inside. I was holding the crying Fiendling at the time, so I wasn’t positive that it was locked, but I was pretty sure. I called Mix who was coming over for dinner anyway. He was on his way over so I zipped the Fiendling up in my sweatshirt and we sat on the porch and waited.

Mix tried for a while but he couldn’t get the door open either so I knew I wasn’t just crazy. Then he tried the back door and couldn’t get that open either. I called Boyfiend back and told him we were going to Mix’s house. He was leaving work so he said he’d call after he got the door open. Before we actually went into Mix’s house he grabbed his set of keys for our house and gave them a try in the door. His keys didn’t work later.

An hour later, the Fiendling had eaten a few bites of leftover rice, Elmo was on the TV and we’d ordered a pizza, wings and mozzarella sticks I had no intention of sharing. Boyfiend called saying he couldn’t get in through the front but he was able to get in through the back door. Mix and I both started to feel like idiots. How come he could get in when we couldn’t? Then he told us he broke the back window to get in. I didn’t care about the broken window I was so relieved it wasn’t just me being stupid.

It turns out the front door really is broken. We can’t get it open from the inside or outside so I feel vindicated that it’s not just a mental block on my part. It’s nice to be proven right, even though it meant the Fiendling and I sat on the front porch in the cold with no coats for an hour trying to get the door open. It sucks that we’ll have to use the back door to get in and out and that the back window is now covered with a piece of cardboard, but at least I’m not crazy.

The Fiendling spent a better part of last night and today talking about the experience. “Uh-uh front door open. Front door closed. Mama uh-uh open it. Mix uh-uh open it. Back door open. Front door broken.”

Even more amusing, Smith Memorial Playground is closed for the winter. Every time we visit the playhouse the Fiendling talks about the playground being closed. To mark time I’ve explained that it will be his birthday, then mine then the playground will be open. He often talks about this saying, “Playground closed. Fiendling’s birthday. Mama’s birthday. Then playground open.” Last night, as we sat in the car while Mix tried his keys in our front door, the Fiendling said, “Fiendling’s birthday, mama’s birthday, front door open.”