Let My Love Open The Door
After not having written in a week I had resolved earlier today that I would post tonight. I ruminated upon many possibly subjects over the course of the day but most of my attention seemed focused on the conflicting messages that a mother, my mother in particular, gives her children. It was going to be a thoughtful and reflective slightly humorous yet philosophical piece. I planned to be deep and meaningful. Then typical life reared its head and I now have something completely frivolous to relate.
I was making dinner. Real dinner, the kind that needs to be cooked and doesn’t involve peanut butter. I got off work early due to the impending holiday and we were home in time for me to thaw some pork chops, marinate them and toss them on the grill all while the sun still shone high above the neighboring houses. As I prepared the other white meat for the grill the girls were happily alternating between arguing, pestering and reading in the living room so I was able to move freely through the kitchen. Then I opened the balcony door.
See, I have this great townhouse that I really love. It has three floors. On the basement floor is the garage which leads out into the driveway that I share with 11 of my neighbors. Above the garage is the eat-in kitchen with the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony on which my grill lounges. When I first bought the grill I considered leaving it in the garage where there was more room and it could be brought inside out of the elements but then I thought about having to carry raw meat through my living room, down the stairs, through the family room and out to the grill and then a return trip. In the meantime if I was cooking anything in the kitchen at the same time I’d have to keep running back and forth. Just thinking of it exhausted me so the grill lives on the balcony.
When I opened the balcony door to toss the chops on the grill SB came running and tried to come outside with me but I slid the screen closed in her face. She makes me nervous on the balcony due to her insistence on attempting to dangle herself over the railing. I like to keep her inside. (To that end I recently installed an extra lock on the balcony door. It’s basically a spring-mechanism pin thing that attaches to the door. You drill a hole in the top of the frame and the pin slides into it effectively locking the door. And SB can’t reach it.) So I put the meat on the grill and went back inside. When I went out to flip it SB followed me again and was denied exit again. She seemed frustrated but I felt safer that way. To make it up to her I put on a cd and we danced in the kitchen while waiting for everything to cook.
Then it was time to take the chops off the grill. I grabbed my plate and my tongs and went outside one last time. For the third time SB attempted to come out with me and for the third time she was shot down. Apparently this frustrated her because she tried opening the screen even after being told to leave it alone. In my annoyance I snapped, “Leave the door closed!” after which she slid the screen shut. Satisfied I turned back to the grill and as I opened the lid I heard the sound of the glass door sliding on its track. I spun around and saw her sliding it shut and started yipping, “no, no, no NO” and clawing at the screen to try and stop her but as everyone knows there is no stopping SB once she gets going. The door was shut. And locked. At the top. Where SB can’t reach.
You probably remember that PK was also home at the time and you’re thinking that I’m now going to tell you that she came and rescued me and all was well. Of course if you remember that PK was home maybe you’ll also recall the cd that I turned on in the kitchen. Loudly. And the door has really well insulated double paned glass. It really keeps the driveway sounds out very nicely. I was stuck.
I pleaded with SB to go get her sister. She said “Mommy, open the door.” The she giggled. I begged her to go get PK. She chuckled. I pounded on the glass. She snorted.
Glancing over my shoulder I saw my neighbor working in his garage and hoped he didn’t notice my predicament. I also sent up a little prayer of gratitude because I knew that even though it would be horribly embarassing that Carl is a good guy who would come rescue me if necessary. Then I went back to cajoling a stubborn as sin 3 year-old into getting her sister to let mommy back into the house. It didn’t work.
One last time, “Please go get PK?”
She looked at me with that glint in her eye and stuck out her tongue. Not at me though, at the window. Then she licked the glass. My face must have contorted in all kinds of disgust and revoltion because her face immediately lit up and she did it again. And again. And again.
I got down on my knees on the balcony and focused my sternest cut-the-crap-before-mommy-goes-postal-on-your-tiny-butt look and yelled “PeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeKaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”.
PK came running into the kitchen only to skid to a stop laughing when she saw what happened. She finally grabbed a chair to stand on and was unlocking the door when Carl stepped into the middle of the driveway and called “Everything okay?” I’d forgotten wanting to avoid making a spectacle of myself when I hollered.
“Yeah, everything is fine now,” I said as I stepped through the now open door clutching my plate of pork chops. And everything was fine after SB’s time out for about 10 minutes. Then she got up in the middle of dinner to lick the door again.
Pete Townshend – The Best Of Pete Townshend: Coolwalkingsmoothtalkingstraightsmokingfirestoking
