The Time Carter Locked Me in the Closet

The weekend before Thanksgiving, I decided it was time to give my closet a good cleaning.  I knew there were clothes in there that I had not worn in over a year, and I was running out of hangers for new clothes.  

That morning, however, after I had bathed, I realized I couldn't get into my closet to get clean clothes out.  Apparently, the door was stuck.  I was unsure of whether there was a lock on the inside (although I was pretty sure there wasn't).  Brent was working, so I texted him to see what in the world to do so I could get some clean underwear and clothes and be able to get a start on cleaning my closet.  He told me to try with a butter knife on the latch and if that didn't work, get a screwdriver and unscrew the knob itself if possible.  

Once I got Carter laid down for his nap, to work I went with my tools.  I couldn't unlatch it, so I ended up taking the entire handle off, but still I couldn't get the part with the latch off.  It was just stuck in the door frame.  Finally, I was able to finagle the butter knife enough to get it unlatched and open.  Turns out it did NOT have a lock at all, apparently the latch was just stuck anyways!

My "tools" & old, ugly doorknob (see, no lock!!)

I went about my business pulling out all of my clothes, going through them, making stacks to keep and stacks to donate.  Carter woke up somewhere in the middle of me doing so, and we ate some lunch and played a bit before we went back in my room/bathroom to finish up.

Just as I was putting some of the last clothes back inside the closet, while Carter is playing just outside, I hear a "click" behind me.  Suddenly, I was freaking out.  In that moment, I realized I never took the latch part of the door out, and {DUH!} Carter's favorite thing was to open and close doors!   

I tried to open the door, but of course, it was stuck just like it was earlier.  Only this time, I was on the inside and baby Carter was free on the outside.  I could see through the little hole where the door knob used to be, but I couldn't see much!  

I started panicking, realizing I did not have the screwdriver or butter knife with me, not that it would help since I was now on the inside where I couldn't even get to the latch part if I wanted.  Also, I did not have my cell phone.  My front door was locked, and Brent was the only one with a key.  This was at around 1PM, and I did not expect him home until at least 6PM.  

I could hear Carter playing on the other side of the door, calm as could be.  I, on the other hand, was close to panic attacks.  I was thinking it was going to be a long few hours.  I was crying and saying prayers to keep myself sane,but then I started thinking "what if something happens to Carter?", "what if he puts something in his mouth and starts choking?", and "what if he wonders off?".  I realized I HAD to get out of there.  

I was beginning to think I was going to have to beat my way through the wall or something.  Thankfully, the door to my closet is old, though, so I started banging myself against it to see if it would budge.  It didn't.  So I sat in the floor with my back/shoulders pushed up against the wall and my feet on the door.  I pushed as hard as I could push and the door bent enough that I could get a quick glance at Carter.  He started trying to get his fingers in the crack so I had to wait a bit to start again so he could get distracted from what I was doing and get out of the way.

I pushed again and again and realized the door was starting to give a little.  It was cracking around the hole, and if I could push it a little further I figured I could get out.  Finally, I broke my way out and held my baby boy and cried.  I was probably only stuck for about 15 minutes, but it felt so much longer than that!

An after picture of the damage to my door.

I called poor Brent at work while in the middle of my sobbing fit, and he could barely make out my words.  After realizing everyone was safe, he went ahead and got off the phone and called back once I had myself a bit more together.  I apologized over and over for breaking the door, but explained it just had to be done.  Of course, he didn't mind!

A nice, organized closet that I became a little TOO familiar with.

So since then I have been left with a closet door that is cracked in the middle and has a hole where the handle once was.  Brent took off the latch part when he got home from work so this won't happen again!  I guess I'm asking Santa for a new door and handle this year! :)