Don't mess with Mama

I wrote this post a year ago about our hiding-out tendencies when the doorbell rings.

Not much has changed, except that Savannah now knows the ropes. The doorbell rings, she hunkers down on the couch. Just like Mama. She says, "Shhhhhhh......" in a loud stage whisper. Just like Mama.

And then when I have tiptoed over to the peephole and verified that whoever has dared to intrude is gone, she asks, "Can I talk now, Mama?"

I've trained her so well.

Last Monday, I was standing by the kitchen sink cutting up a mango for Savannah. I happened to glance up and noticed two young guys, maybe around 20, walking up my sidewalk and around towards my front door. My first thought was, Oooh, they sort of look like hooligans.....but other than that I didn't pay much attention to them.

I hissed a warning to Savannah, who was in the living room on the couch....."Savannah! Shhh! Doorbell!"

(And now that I'm typing this, our system sounds so much sillier than it does when we are actually implementing it. Not that I'm planning on changing it or anything, because it is has served us quite well thus far).

Two seconds later, the doorbell sounded. We shrunk into our respective positions to wait them out; I heard their voices, but not clear enough to make out what they were saying, just muffled murmurs. A few seconds later, it was quiet.

I stepped out from my little space and started to walk towards the living room. And that's when I saw them.

In my backyard.

One of them was scoping out the place, probably looking for a rock to hurl through the window. The other had his face pressed up to the sliding glass door, looking inside, trying to open it.

Oh, sisters. In about two seconds flat I went from zero to sixty. I roared - ROARED, I tell you - at them while I sprinted for the front door. "What the...!!!! GET OUT OF HERE!"

By the time I fumbled with all the locks - 3 locks and two doors - and burst outside, they had already leaped over my stone wall, which is chest-high on me, and sped around the corner.

I was so furious that I followed them. I pounded across our lovely gravel yard and down the hot sidewalk in my bare feet and nice stretchy pants and pajama top that looks enough like a regular shirt that sometimes I pretend that I don't need to get dressed.

Those boys were fast. But at that moment, I had such surge of adrenaline that I felt I could catch them and take them both down. That's how utterly incensed I was.

Then reality set in as I realized, (a). I didn't have my shoes on, (b). there was no way I would catch them, and (c). oh yeah, my baby girl is still inside by herself. And a bonus point, (d). what exactly did I think I would do to them anyway, even if I could catch them?

So I stopped at the edge where the sidewalk met the street, still screaming at them. They bolted far up the street, then turned right and careened away. Once they were gone, I suddenly became aware of just how hot the sidewalk was, and just how sharp the gravel was. Funny what adrenaline will do to you - I didn't even notice it on my mad dash out.

My neighbor came over right away to check on me and calm me down. I called the police, and they came in two minutes, and started combing the neighborhood. I called Ricardo, who had left that morning for a business trip for 4 days, and he said, "Go figure, the day I leave...."

Seriously, y'all. It still makes me mad to think about it, the gall of these people to march right on in like they own the place....to look in my windows, to contemplate taking my stuff.

It could have been so much worse. All of the what if's......what if I hadn't been home? What if they had thrown a rock and broken the window before I screamed? What if they had a gun?

But they didn't. None of that happened. We were protected by the great Protector - thank you Lord.

I doubt if they will be back, since a crazy lady obviously lives here.

A warning to all you hooligans out there....don't mess with Mama.