I've had quite a few scary mommy moments. So many, I think I have lost count.
But the real big scary mommy moments are still very fresh in my mind.
Last year, when we were on vacation in Florida, my mom took Dimitry, who was 6 months old at the time, up to the hotel room for a nap.
My parents had a connecting room to ours, which was great, because in the mornings as we were trying to get ready, we could open the doors connecting our rooms, and the boys could walk back and forth between the two rooms, letting us getting ready.
Anyway, I went up to our room, to see if my mom wanted to go back down to swim with Christos. I did not have the key to her room, so I went through my room, and opened the connecting door. I knocked. She opened her door. She walked into my room. And then, all we heard was the loud sound of the door shutting behind her. As you know, if someone else's adjoining door closes, you can't open it from your side.
"OMG, MOM, OMG OMG OMG!"
We ran out, found one of the cleaners, and begged her to let us into my mom's room.
"Please, can you open this door? My key is inside the room - along with a sleeping 6 month old baby!"
Well, this lady was so concerned, she started to cry... and proceeded to open the door. Only, of course, my mom had the chain on the door! Meaning - we could not get in the room!
I was hysterical. I was having the worst possible visions of my 6 month old son waking up, and rolling off the bed, onto the corner of the night table, crashing his skull into the side of the table. Or, worse - what if he somehow managed to make it to the balcony door, and fall down 19 stories? What if he woke up, and started crying for us?
I did not know what to do. My mom was just as worried. I was swearing, pacing, yelling and crying, all at once. Someone else came to help. He started trying to open the door with a piece of paper.
I was mad, yelling at him that he did not know what he was doing, so I decided to run downstairs, (I am pretty sure I took the elevator) and I went to the front desk, yelling at the top of my lungs:
"MY BABY! HE IS LOCKED IN OUR ROOM ON THE 19TH FLOOR! CALL 9-1-1!!! RIGHT NOW!"
The man at the front desk was way too calm for my liking. Why he did not start freaking out when he saw me in that state, I'll never know. Somehow, he got in touch with the man who was on our floor trying to get the door open. He was talking calmly. I started freaking out again:
"What are you waiting for? Do you realize he could die? He could roll off the bed at any second and seriously hurt himself, call the fire department of give me a saw or something! I have to break down the door!"
I'm not kidding. I was this hysterical. If I told you to call the hotel to verify this story, and this man answered the phone, he would surely remember the crazy lunatic girl in the pink bikini.
He hangs up the phone, and says to me:
"Ma'am, the door has been opened."
I did not even say thank you. I was very embarrassed. I ran to the elevators, and ran down the hall to the hotel room. My mom was inside, and baby Dimitry had just woken up... without a clue in the world what craziness had just occured. The nice cleaner was in the room, too, crying her eyes out. She was the sweetest lady ever. We hugged, and laughed. And then I hugged my baby boy and went downstairs to get a Pina Colada.
I really needed a drink.