Yesterday we were robbed.
Okay. We were only robbed a little.
As you can see, I still have a computer to type from.
We were at a neighbor's house, a few blocks away. When we got home, I hurried through the house and put the boys down to nap, and then came back to sit at the computer and type up yesterday's blog post.
That's how I managed to avoid noticing my bedroom had been ransacked.
The boys room was untouched (leaving me to believe that the best place to hide valuables is in my children's room), and the living room where I sat was mostly untouched.
I did notice some things had been strewn about a little, but with two year old twins, I thought "Man, my kids are messy," and not "Someone snuck into my house and dumped out the contents of our church bag on to the floor."
Through our large front window, I saw our downstairs neighbors get home. A few minutes later Elizabeth came upstairs, and said, "I think we've been robbed."
Immediately, my heart started beating like crazy. But we haven't been robbed, I thought. I can see my Wii and laptop from here. I've been typing at the desktop computer.
And then I walked back to my bedroom.
And we had been robbed.
Our bedroom window was wide open, every drawer in two end tables, a dresser, and a sewing dresser were open and all our things were strewn across the room.
Elizabeth told me that most of their movies had been stolen, but the shelves of movies in our room were mostly untouched. (Luckily, foreign films, documentaries, and weird Indie movies don't get a lot at Pawn Shops.)
We were missing the boxset of the Harry Potter movies, but I didn't notice right away.
What I noticed was that the beautiful, priceless change bowl (hand carved for us in Kenya) was empty, but still there, and the iPad. The iPad was gone.
I called Travis, and then the Police.
Five minutes later, when I realized what the robber had taken that I loved, I finally started freaking out.
My most valued material possession.
Soon the Police were at our house, and they quickly pieced together what had happened. The burglar had gone in the Laurent's back door, and cleaned them out. Then ransacked the shed a little, gathering all our tools (and Tyler's underwater spear gun) into a bag (which he was thankfully forced to leave behind, along with our bike trailer, which he'd unattached from our bike, probably to load up with his goods).
Then he climbed on to our roof, and in the bedroom window. He'd ransacked the bedroom, and headed out towards the living room, at which point in time, he'd seen the boys and I get home from our play date through the same big windows I'd seen Elizabeth pull up to.
He escaped the way he came, running through the backyard and climbing over our fence into the alley, where he hopefully fell into a very prickly bush.
He actually left his own bike parked outside our house.
Luckily, the boys and I played in the front yard for a few minutes before heading into the house. Since the robber had by then stolen Tyler's underwater fishing knife, he could have been quite dangerous when cornered.
Part of me feels guilty for even being upset.
I mean, look at the families in Oklahoma who lost everything this week. Some of them even lost their children. Or look at the people who already have nothing, and thus nothing to steal.
My perfect children, however, we nestled snug in their beds and most of our material goods were safe and sound while the police stomped around dusting for prints.
I went into their room to watch the boys sleep, to be grateful and awed that I have them and they are safe.
And then I noticed that the lighting was just perfect, and I could grab the picture of them asleep in their beds that I'd been wanting all week.
I snuck out of their room to get my camera and then.
I got really upset.
How dare someone come into my home?
This place where my perfect children sleep safely.
This fortress and solitude from the grief and danger of the outside world has been breached by someone that thinks our hard-earned, and heart-held possessions are just theirs for the taking.
By someone who isn't even brave enough to come in the front door that I left unlocked, but slinks in the back window like a coward to destroy and defile my bedroom.
How dare they?
This is not nearly as bad as tornado, it's true, but a tornado that destroys and steals is an act of weather not an act of humanity.
A warning to anyone who comes in my home without my permission, with malice or ill intent:
Don't you freaking dare.
You will regret it.
That is all.