One of the things I am excited most about having a baby in 2013 is the fact that my first two kids were born before there were cameras on phones, apps that make it easy to document their lives, and social media to entertain you during those middle of the night feedings.
These days there are no excuses for NOT documenting a child’s life. Right?
Well, somehow I made it to week 16 of my pregnancy without taking a belly shot.
I haven’t downloaded an app to help me document my pregnancy or prepare for childbirth.
I typed in pregnancy in the app store and yowzers….information overload.
Technology. I think it is intended to make our lives easier, but I often get overwhelmed with all the ‘stuff’ out there ready to help me ‘do life.’
Sometimes, I wonder if what was supposed to make life more simple, has indeed made it more complicated.
I have good intentions of taking pictures and writing down all the fun stories of everyday life at the Buxton’s house, but somehow….well…
Something happened last night that I want to remember. A story that I want to tell this little one when he or she gets older.
“Little one, want to hear a funny story that happened when you were in my tummy?”
So here’s my attempt of getting better at writing down stories to share with the kids when they are older.
It had been a fun-filled, exhausting day.
Cousin Ashlynn was staying with us for the week, and for her early birthday present, we bought her a season pass to the local water park.
So, at four months pregnant I spent the day with three kids going down water slides, playing tag in the wave pool, and eating picnic lunch. Not sure if it is wise for a pregnant lady to go down water slides…but it is too hot to not join in on the fun.
We drove home red-faced and exhausted from a fun day in the sun.
I scrambled to put together dinner. These days every meal includes a side of chips and salsa or guacamole.
Really that is normal, but pregnancy gives me an excuse to count it as a ‘craving.’
Realizing that I was running low on chips, I headed to Target and quickly found my spoils and rushed home.
I turned the corner onto our street and a large Rottweiler dog followed my car. I pulled into the driveway, and I looked over my shoulder and sure enough that huge dog was making his way around the car to the driver’s side of my car.
My heart started racing, and I locked the doors. Not sure what that was supposed to do for me. Oh good now the dog can’t open the door!
I reached for my purse to call Joe who was inside the house.
Oh great. In the rush to get tortilla chips to ‘curb my craving’ I had left my phone at home.
Then it happened. I looked that dog in the face and suddenly I was in the scene from Stephen King’s 80s psychological thriller, “Cujo.”
My parents did a great job protecting my mind as a child. No ‘R’ rated movies. No watching Dallas or Three’s Company.
Somewhere along the way…as a child I fell in love with Stephen King movies. I really don’t remember if my parents allowed me to rent them once I was older, or if I watched them at friends’ houses.
Nonetheless, there are scenes from each movie that are engrained in my memory and have come back to haunt me in life.
Last night, it was the car scene in “Cujo,” when Donna and her son were trapped in the car for hours in the heat of summer and the rabid St. Bernard Cujo was waiting for them to get out.
I had already raised the garage door, so I started honking the horn in hopes that Joe would come to my rescue. After about a minute of honking, I realized it was a lost cause.
“Cujo” turned and started making his way into the garage.
I saw my chance to race to the front door…but I wasn’t sure the front door was unlocked, and I saw my life and the life of my unborn child ending if the front door was locked.
What would Donna do? What would Donna do?
“Cujo” made his way to the back of the garage, and I saw my chance.
I pushed the button of the garage door and my life was suddenly playing in slow motion.
“Cujo” turned and tried to get out of the garage before the door trapped him inside….would he make it?
Join us next week for the conclusion…
The garage door hit the ground just in time. “Cujo” was trapped inside our garage.
I unlocked the car door and raced to the front door. I prayed that Joe nor the kids would try to go out the house door to the garage before I made it inside to warn them of “Cujo” lurking inside.
The front door was open.
There I found a scene that would usually speak romance to my soul.
Sweet Joe with his ear buds in cleaning up the kitchen.
No wonder he didn’t hear my frantic honking.
Expecting a hug and kiss and ‘thank you sweetie for cleaning up my mess’, instead Joe turned to find a frantic wife.
“THERE’S A HUGE DOG TRAPPED IN THE CAR”
“What? In the car? How did he get in the car?”
“I mean I trapped him in the garage. I think he is a Rottweiler. ”
I went on to quickly tell Joe the last two minutes of my life that was a scene directly out of a Stephen King movie.
Joe, the son of a veterinarian, has taught me to have a healthy fear of large dogs. He calmly and lovingly told me to stay inside. (How does that man stay so calm all the time?)
He went to the car to use the garage door opener to free “Cujo.”
Within 30 seconds it was over.
The Buxton family had survived a brush with death via “Cujo.”
Joe tells me the dog is our neighbor’s dog and so old and unhealthy that he likely couldn’t have been fast enough to catch even a 4 month pregnant woman racing to the front door.
I will keep that last detail to myself when I recount this story to the little one in my tummy.
Instead, I like to think that me and little one in my tummy were in as much danger as Donna and little Tad in that car planning their escape from “Cujo.”
And, I don’t think I will tell little one that the neighbor’s Rottweiler’s name is LaLa.
“Cujo” is a much more suited name.