As if having triplets doesn't bring me enough attention. No, not nearly enough. Doing my part to create drama in order to give the neighbors something to talk about, with a quick call to 911 I had three fire trucks, four police cars, and an ambulance parked outside my house within minutes.
What happened, you ask?
Well, you see I was hungry. Very hungry. Due to RD's very long work hours lately, our cupboards are pretty bare since it's been a good while since I've gone grocery shopping. We've been making those quick runs to get "just enough" to keep our children from withering away to nothing. It was 8 o'clock and I realized I hadn't yet eaten dinner. I can count on one hand the number of times I've "forgotten" to eat. Don't you hate those people that always "forget" to eat. I think skinny people just say that to make us not-so-skinny people feel like pigs. I looked in the freezer and found we had half-a-bag of french fries. mmmm...with some cheddar?! CHEESE FRIES! YUM! So I preheat the oven...I'm putting some dishes away....and, "what's that smell?" We usually get a little whiff of gas when we first turn the oven on, so I decide to ignore it. Then I get a little light-headed. hmmmm...time to worry? I turn to face the oven and what do I do? Take a BIG whiff. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was trying to reassure myself that I wasn't really smelling anything. As quickly as I took that whiff, the room started to go white. I started rushing around the room in circles. I truly think I was delirious. These thoughts of me passing out and not being able to get to my unconscious babies were whirling through my head. I guess I thought if I kept moving (in circles?) I would be alert enough not to pass out. I opened up the kitchen window, ran to the front of the house to open up the screen door (almost all our windows are painted shut, so these were my only options), then grabbed the cordless phone. I first paged RD. I don't know what I expected him to do. I guess I was hoping he'd give me some quick instructions, so I could avoid what was to follow. Because obviously, I don't handle these emergency situations very well. And here I thought I was one who worked great under pressure! Humph!
I didn't know who to call. The Fire Department? I was still feeling dizzy, and in fear of something happening to the babies - and me not being able to get to them - I called 911.
Dispatcher: 911. What's your emergency?
Me: Well...I...uh...I turned on the oven...and it smelled of gas really strong....and I got dizzy......uh...I've got three kids and I'm worried. Could you send someone from the Fire Department to check for gas?
Dispatcher: Did you turn it off?
Me: Yes. Yes, I did.
Dispatcher: Are the kids acting strange?
Me: No. Um, I don't think so. Their door's shut. I opened windows...they're sleeping and their room isn't near the kitchen...the windows are open...I think they're okay.
Dispatcher: Make sure all the windows are open. Get the kids and wait outside. I'm sending someone over.
Me: Um...there's three. I can't.... Just hurry up.
So here's my biggest fear. I have to get the kids (who are all sleeping so soundly) all out of the house, and I'm home alone. F. F. F. I'm a big weanie when it comes to cussing. Especially the "f" word. It was drilled into me as a child that ladies never curse. I guess it stuck with me. I called my mom who lives five minutes away.
I start pacing, wondering how I do this. I grabbed the van keys, the phone, and RAN to the neighbors to see if they could help me carry the kids, and we hang in their house until things were all clear. Before you think I'm a horrible mother for leaving them, even for a second, I had turned the gas off, opened (all available) windows, and it didn't smell bad anymore - but I did still want it checked out. And their door was closed...and yes, I feel guilty...and yes I need to work on my emergency drills!!!!! Ugh. No answer. I ran back to my house and already a police officer was walking up.
Me: First...First....can you...will you please help me carry my babies out to the van?
PO: Yes. Are you okay?
Me: Yes. I just want to get my babies out to the van.
PO: Sure. Do you need help carrying them?
Me: Yes! Yes. There's three of them. Triplets.
PO: Oh...okay.
So we go in and wake my three, beautiful sleeping babies. AR was PISSED. SA was scared. SJ...he could care less - I think he was excited at the chance to get up for awhile. We carry my shivering babies out to the van, and I cranked up the heat. As we were walking out to the van, I heard sirens, LOUD sirens, coming from every direction.
Me: BIG SIGH That's not all for me...is it?
PO: Yes, mam.
Damn. Damn. Damn. All I wanted was someone to come out to check - JUST IN CASE - and the city's throwing everything they've got at me. UGH.
So now there are bright lights all up and down our street. Firemen running in my house. My God...this is crazy. It was just a little leak. Is this necessary?
VERY long story short...there was a minor leak. We're not allowed to use our stove/oven until someone checks it out. Just great. It's not like we have anything to cook anyway. I was told the gas level was back down to zero, and we could go back in. My mom was here by this time, so she helped me carry the babes back to bed. Luckily, they were exhausted and went right back to sleep without a fuss.
RD came home shortly after the last truck left. He just smiled and shook his head.
Me: I just wanted to be sure.
RD: Smiling Uh-huh.
Me: What if I passed out? What if I passed out and couldn't get to the babies?
RD: Uh-huh.
Me: Would you have rather I waited to find out the hard way?
RD: Still smiling No. Now laughing.
Still hungry, I offered to run up to McDonald's to get us a late dinner. I brought him a chicken nuggets meal and me a Big Mac.
RD: What's that?
Me: A Big Mac?
RD: Damn! Awful late for that, isn't it?
Me: You know me. When I go out, I go ALL OUT.
RD: Ain't that the truth.
We both laughed.
