My latest adventure was kind of funny, a bit scary, and somewhat classic-Brietta.

It was around 11am. Jack was oversleeping his morning nap, but before waking him I thought I would load the garbage from our garbage pail into the van. My agenda was to wake him, load the kids in the van, dump the garbage, pick up Camilla (who is coming over this afternoon so I can get some projects done around the house), stop by the post office to get our mail (believe me, I would have it delivered if I could, but in small towns they can decide you  live "too close" to the post office), and return home.

Kids, I'm bringing the garbage out. Stay in the house.

Four bags were tossed into the back of the van (reason #561 I'm glad we have the "Grand" minivan) and I turned to go back into the house. Gabriel and Brownyn were standing on the porch with bare feet, smiling at me.

Gabriel, when Mama says to stay in the house, you need to obey. Bronwyn doesn't know to stay away from the road so it's dangerous to out here when I'm not watching.

Oh well. Chalk up one on the "Disobedient" list; but who's keeping track? I sigh, take their hands, and turn the doorknob.

Uh oh.

Gabriel, why is the door locked?

Because I locked it, Mom.

Right. You locked it. And the keys are in the house. And the cell phone is in the house. And we don't have a back door. So we're locked out. And Jack is locked in.

What to do?

Of course! The basement door! It means walking through a pitch-black basement that is infested at various times (maybe right now, for all I know) with mice and trip up stairs that I won't be able to see, but at least it will get me in.

After instructing Gabriel and Bronwyn to sit tight (Please, Lord, let them obey!), I did just that.

This is where the first bit of classic-Brietta comes in, because if I'd thought through it all, I would have remembered that we have a hook and eye lock on our basement door to keep toddlers from opening it and tumbling down the stairs to the cement floor. But, of course, I didn't think through the plan and only remembered this as I was trying to bust the basement door open in the pitch darkness, wondering the whole while what might scamper by at any minute.

So I stumble back through the basement and emerge outside, at that point just hoping the kids stayed put. They did, though Gabriel was crying hysterically because he thought I abandoned him.

Embarrassed by having to let anybody in on the scrape I was in, I pick up the two kids and cross the road to where a retired couple lives. Daniel's met them, but I never have. This would be a more-than-slightly humiliating first encounter.

After getting introductions overwith and disclosing my poor mothering abilities, I called my parents' from my neighbors phone. Carina answered and I told her I needed help. She, as always, responded by coming over. After unsuccessfully trying to heave me up over the back deck, which happens to be 10' above the ground, not counting the railing, she went back to Mom and Dad's to get a ladder.

Her return brought my dad along to help with the rescue mission.

But in the most embarrassing and classic-Brietta moment of all, I realized that my parents had a set of keys at the house because Josh had borrowed our car, and that set of keys just so happened to include a house key.

You mean that key chain has a house key and you didn't just tell us to bring it?

Well... I didn't remember that you have it.

Yup.

*Note: Jack slept through the whole thing and Carina is good-natured about my less-than-intelligent responses to emergencies. And thank goodness my family lives about half a mile down the road!*