The Doorbell Rang at 3:45 in the Morning.
One weekend, with Bill out of town and weeks before I started taking my daily amino acid, I woke up in the middle of the night.
Dylan had gone to bed with a fever, so I decided to check on him. First, I turned on the hall light and went into Shane’s room. Shane was completely sideways on his bed, so I straightened and covered him up.
Then the doorbell rang.
AT 3:45 IN THE MORNING.
Our dog awoke and started barking ferociously. Dylan – whose fever had miraculously vanished – bounded out of his bed, wide-eyed and asking, “What’s going on?”
I panicked. I was home alone with two kids. And I knew there wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness on our porch.
I raced into Dylan’s room and peered through the curtains. A renter lives in our basement, but there were no cars in her driveway. There were no cars ANYwhere. And I didn’t see anyone on the porch, or the yard, or … anywhere. I was too scared to believe it was a prank.
I grabbed a phone, and pulled Dylan into the dark room at the end of the hall – the “bonus” room, which is pitch black but has lots of windows. I didn’t want to wake up Shane, so we hid there. I peeked into the blackness again. I saw no one.
But I knew someone was out there. And I wasn’t going to wait around for that person to come in and start shooting. My heart pounding, I called 9-1-1.
It rang and rang. A “hold” message came on.
Really? I’m on HOLD?!? I pictured the intruder strolling right into the house, heading up the stairs while the hold message repeated. After maybe three minutes, someone answered.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Somebody just rang our doorbell and I can’t see anyone. My husband’s not home and I’m alone with two kids.”
“What’s the address, please?”
After the technical stuff, the operator said, “We’ll send someone over to check it out.”
Still huddled in the dark, Dylan said, “Do you want me to get Shane?”
Oh WOW. How did I leave my baby out there alone? And how could I send my other baby to get him?
“I’ll get Shane,” I said. “Take the phone. If I’m not back in 5 minutes, call 9-1-1 again.”
Then … I heard voices downstairs.
It took a minute to register: the voices emanated from our answering machine. The ringer was turned off, but the phone was lighting up in Dylan’s hands.
“Is somebody calling us?”
“It says, ‘Bill cell,'” Dylan answered.
“Answer it!” I shrieked. Bill was calling?! In the middle of the night? Dylan couldn’t figure out how to answer the phone in the dark. I grabbed it, and my husband spoke from a hundred miles away.
“Our renter’s locked herself out,” he said. “Can you let her in?”
Ah…. The proverbial light bulb appeared over my head.
I raced downstairs to let in our renter, who’d rung the doorbell so long ago.
I called 9-1-1 to cancel the posse.
Dylan and Shane – who’d been awake and terrified the entire time – came downstairs to see what had happened. We all laughed like idiots – even though it wasn’t very funny – to break the tension.
Eventually, we all went to bed. Dylan was still sick, and couldn’t get back to sleep without some water and a spoonful of honey. Shane got some water, too, then got into my bed and slept with me.
I didn’t get to sleep for a long, long time.