This week has been tough. The rain kept us indoors for hours at a time. Nothing will make a baby and a Mama more stir crazy than looking at the same toys for hours on end. So when the sun came out on Thursday I decided to straighten my hair, put on a dress, and head to the park.
We left at 11:30am. From 11:45 to 12:45 we were playing in the sand, practicing pulling up, and going down the slide. Who could have known what was happening at home.
At 1:00pm I was minutes away from putting Oliver down for a well deserved nap. As always I opened the door, guided the stroller in, and pulled Oliver out and into my arms.
Having just recently experienced diaper rash for the first time I know you can't change diapers often enough. As I walked towards Oliver's room to change him I noticed the bathroom door was open. Hmm. I thought it was closed when I left. I kept walking.
Next I noticed tons of change and perfume samples scattered on the floor. Huh. Strong wind gusts must have knocked over something...but wait...I turned the corner and looked into my room and saw all the contents of my dresser including the drawers on the floor.
SHIT.
PANIC.
SOMEONES BEEN IN HERE.
ARE THEY STILL HERE?
GET OUT NOW.
RUN.
With Oliver still in my arms I run towards the door and with all my might try to open the door. But I can't. It's stuck. No matter how hard I try, I cannot open the door. It's stuck on something and won't open. That's when I see the living room. The storage trunk is flipped over and everything is dumped onto the floor.
LET ME OUT.
I CANT GET OUT.
IS THE PERSON STILL IN HERE?
SHIT.
SHIT.
LET ME OUT!
I call the super since he works in the building and always answers. He answers on the first ring and I scream into the phone my apartment number, that I'm stuck, and we've been burglarized. Within two minutes he's cracking open my door with a crowbar.
WE'RE SAFE.
OLIVER IS SAFE.
I AM SAFE.
The next five hours consist of policemen taking statements, detectives checking video surveillance, and forensics taking fingerprints off the mirrors. Also during this time we begin to realize all that's been stolen which consisted of nothing out of the ordinary... except for my perfume.
The most unnerving thing (there are many unnerving things about this) is that this was clearly an inside job. We live in a doorman building and there are 24 surveillance cameras throughout the building. Also, our apartment is on a rather high floor. This asshole took the stairs to get in and out. Why wouldn't they try the lower floors? And finally, I don't keep a regular schedule, I keep a baby's schedule. I was gone for an hour and a half and someone had to have been watching me and known exactly which apartment I live in.
The good thing is we were not home. The good thing is all material things can be replaced. The good thing is Oliver is okay. The bad thing is the memory, the loss of trust and sense of safety.
We put bats under our bed should we ever need them in the middle of the night.
My purpose in writing this is not to scare anyone, rather to raise awareness that even when we think we live in safe areas with locks on our doors and doormen acting as gatekeepers to our privacy you must always be on top of your security.
Please be safe and aware. Knowledge is power.
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