It was a dark and stormy night...Or not

Last week, as I was standing in the kitchen, I heard the door open - I thought.  The door opening wasn't what caught my attention.  What caught my attention was the silence that followed. This summer, our front door has been very busy and hardly an opening of the door occurs that giggles and

shrieks don't follow or precede the opening of the door.

See, we have new neighbors. Luckily, they have kids that are around the same age as The Daughters and, from what I can tell, they seem to get along with The Daughters. Of course, I'm just so glad someone else is so close and convenient and entertaining for The Daughters, that I really don't care whether they get along or not. Sorta.

Between our pool and their stairs and our Wii and their toys, we have a very real revolving door. Add to that the layout of our house - the front hall connects to the family room which connects to the kitchen which connects to the living room which connects to the dining room which connects to the front hall - and we really do have a race track on which The Daughters and their friends can enter the house make a quick rotation through our house to determine if anything is worthy of their stay and exit after one lap once they determine that they are "bored".

Open just enough to freak a momma out!

So, when the door opened and there was no sound, my attention was peaked.  I dried off my hands and walked into the living room into the dining room and into the front hall.  The door was ajar, but I saw no one.  I hollered out, "Hello?"  and was met with silence.  So, I pushed the door shut and left the front hall, walking into the family room and back into the kitchen. 

I picked up a knife and began slicing again when I heard the door again followed by silence again.  I put the knife down and yelled out, "Hello?" as I made my way through the living room into the dining room and eventually the front hall where I found the door open just a touch.  I yelled again, "Anyone here?"  There was no answer.  So, I pushed the door shut yet again, making sure it caught and then walked through the family room and back into the kitchen. 

Once I got into the kitchen, I stood very, very still, hardly breathing at all, recalling all the scary movies I had ever watched in the wee hours of the morning as I babysat for my neighbors while they went dancing at Disco International in 1984.  I listened.  Had someone come into the house and then left?  Or was I alone in the house with someone who would eventually call me and ask if I were alone in the house?   That did it.  Officially, I was freaked.  Because I had just freaked myself out, I reached into my back pocket to pull my phone out and discovered my phone was on the table in the family room. 

I took a step toward my phone and the door opened again.  I quickly walked toward the family room and ran right smack dab into a person I wasn't expecting to find there at all!

I screamed and screamed again and then, as Daughter 1 laughed at her very freaked out momma, I tumbled backwards away from the perceived predator and peed my pants. 

That's right, my friends, as I steadied myself at the threshold between the kitchen and family room, my bladder gave out on me. 

Once I made it to the bathroom, I stepped out of my soaked shorts and stepped into the shower; Daughter 1 said that she was only trying to see how many times she could avoid me as she opened the door.  The fact that I screamed and peed my pants?  She said, "WOW!  That was a sweet bonus, Momma!"

Anything for my baby.  My nine-pound, six-ounce baby that caused my bladder to be weak in the first place:  Anything for you.