Last night was no exception. Around 12:30 I was woken from a blissfully deep sleep by someone making a horrifically loud and constant buzzing noise. After lying there cursing the jerks who would do this to me on a freakin' work week night for a while, I realized that it wasn't stopping. Nor was it coming from outside.
Whoops. Fire alarm.
Ok. Assessment time. Living above a commercial property as I do, drunk kids often find it hilarious to pull the fire alarm in the store, to watch the hundreds of residents come streaming out in their nightclothes. This happens on a fairly regular basis - at least twice a year, in my estimation. So... fire alarm... middle of the night... no smoke smell... I'm thinkin' "false alarm, again." But, as it's a Monday night, and I do have a child I'm responsible for... Just in case, I decided to get my butt dressed (and yeah - I went to bed naked, for the first time in a year. Awesome timing to start that up again.) Threw on clothes, went pee, and put on some shoes, the whole time trying to hold my hands over my ears because of the ear-piercingly loud and non-stop shrieking coming from the alarm in the hallway. Now - keep in mind, it's been about 10 minutes or so since the alarm started, and I haven't mentioned my son yet. This is because he is SLEEPING THROUGH IT! Yes, that's right - my child who wakes up if I open his door a crack to check on him, or if his sound machine turns off abruptly (waves are nice, don't ya know), is blissfully unaware that our building might be going up in flames.
I finally gather up a sweater and socks for him, and throw on my ringsling to carry him, and grabbed him from his slumber and his crib. He looked at me as if to say 'wtf, mum?' as I picked him up, and hurried him past the alarm in the hall, and we started down the stairs, where I met up with friend P who lives downstairs with friend L. He was, very kindly, coming up to see if we needed help getting out because... wait for it... IT'S AN ACTUAL, HONEST TO GOODNESS FIRE, PEOPLE!!!
As soon as I hear this news, I start lamenting that I was way too sleepy to think of bringing my purse, which holds an emergency diaper, and the beloved truck book. But we're rushing now, so there's nothing I can do other than hope he doesn't poop.
We scurry outside - F in P's arms, looking back at me confusedly, and seeming none too impressed with this interruption from his peaceful slumber, until he spots.... the TUCKS!!!!! Pretty, shiny, red and white tucks, with lights flashing all over them. And there are not one, not two, but THREE tucks - right there! In front of our building! Could this get ANY better??
Suffice it to say - my son is thrilled that there is a fire. He is beyond thrilled. He may plotz.
Y'see... My son is all about trucks these days. He rotates between calling them all tractors (TACK-terrrrrr) and trucks (TUCK!), but regardless of their name, they are beyond awesome at the moment. He rejoices in the fact that the street beside ours is being torn up this summer - there are tack-terrrrs galore, and they're RIGHT THERE BESIDE HIM! But this... THIS... is something truly special, and he knows it.
An hour later, still outside, he is no less interested in the tucks. His mother (aka me) however is wilting. It's cold, it's late, and there's no news about how long we'll be out of our homes. L and her daughter and F and I decide a little walk to the gas station for provisions is required. Luckily, L is far smarter than I in a crisis, and she brought her purse - with money, and everything!
We realize on the way there that we may not get back into our homes this night at all, at which point I really start worrying about the whole pooping in the one and only diaper we currently have, so we both decide to call friends to find potential places to crash. As soon as that's done, P calls from his survey spot across the street from our building - they're letting people back in!
Woohoo!! Three massive cheers for fire codes and living in a new-ish building!! Yes, there was a fire, and yes that apartment is gutted, however we are cleared to go back into our places anyhow!
Of course - that's when the fun really starts: attempting to get a very tired, very excited one year old, who has been pointing at and chattering about TUCKS for almost 2 hours back to sleep. hahahahahahhahahahahahahahaah. Yeah. Who knew someone could wake up 5 times in the span of 2.5 hours?
Oh. So. Tired.