a good idea gone bad . . . or "was that really a butt I saw go by?!?!"

So, I dropped Gennie off at preschool this morning with high aspirations of how to spend my 2 glorious hours with only one kid to haul around. I planned to go to pick up a few groceries for supper tonite . . . since I can't seem to get everything I need in one trip . . . I've been to Smith's every day this week . . . then up the hill to the scrapbook store to spend my birthday gift cert. I hadn't had a chance to give Josiah his whole bottle yet because he doesn't like to eat right when he gets up, so I figured I'd have to feed him somewhere in there, either at one store or the other. I finished up at Smith's and put him and the groceries back in the car and realized I still had at least 15 min. before the scrapbook store opened so I thought I'll just feed him in the car while we waste the last few min. I got out his bottle and climbed into the backseat beside him so I could help him hold the bottle. By that time he was really getting hungry so I was sooo proud of myself for thinking of a way to use the time . . . multitask! He finished up the bottle and I wiped him up, then reached out to open the back door. Nothing. No familiar click, no opening, no nothing. I clicked the lock button . . . nothing. I was completely confused for a minute, then it hit me . . . those three little words . . . CHILD SECURITY LOCK.

I locked myself in the backseat with Josiah in the parking lot of our grocery store. Frick.

Now, I drive a 1998 Chevy Blazer and there's plenty of room in the back seat for two car seats and groceries and all but it's not THAT big. The cargo area is certainly big enough but the back hatch has no latch inside the vehicle so that wasn't an option. I was getting kind of concerned by this point, but not completely hysterical. The little old man that patrols the parking lot for carts wandered by muttering under his breath about the horrid people who don't put their carts back . . . I could read his lips as he went by . . . didn't seem the type to ask for help because I didn't want to risk the heart attack I was sure would ensue if I started yelling and bouncing the car. Josiah is cute and all but absolutely no help at climbing out and opening a car door . . . nevermind he'd never reach the handle even if he could stand up all the way. Last resort time . . . my only way out was over the front seat.

I moved Gennie's booster seat out of the way so I could stand up in the back seat, then realized that I was more than half way bent over. Finally, somewhere I was too tall to be. What a time for that! I couldn't get my legs up over the seat while standing up because there wasn't enough room for me to lift my legs. Okay, it's go time. I'll have to go butt first.

I turned around and squeezed my backside thru the space between the front seats and unceremoniously plopped into the driver seat backwards. Luckily, I had on my nylon track pants which clung nicely to the velour seats and stayed behind as I moved, ending up considerably lower than my waist as I landed. All that was missing was the inevitable horn honk as my butt hit the steering wheel. I snaked my legs over the seat and under the steering wheel with as much grace as I could, then sat there for a minute, laughing hysterically at myself. When I regained control and was able to sit up and drive, we went on our way . . . me chuckling to myself and thinking "I can't wait to blog this one!" and Josiah laughing because Mommy was laughing. Awesome.