Is Husband a Hypocrite?

I told you a little about the house I grew up in, but there is more. Husband loves to make fun of the number of locks and the bars. He swears my parents must have been in protective custody. I am about to explain our locks and bars. Try to take it all in. It is okay to tell you know because I am pretty sure my cousin changed all the locks when we sold him the house. If not, all I can say is “Ooops, my bad.”

In order to come into the front of our house a person would have to come through two doors. The screen door used to be a metal frame with metal 1/4 of the way up and then glass with a metal divider. It had one of those handles with the big button and the flimsy little ticker switch to lock and unlock it. It was typical early 80’s. That broke before I went to junior high and we got a new door. The new door is what my husband encountered. It was wrought iron with that bullet proof glass plastic on the inside. It did not come with that glass/plastic insert. My mother changed it after I locked myself out of the house one day and busted through the wire screen to let myself back in. That lock had to be turned twice to the left in order for the door to open.

Next there were 3 locks on the main door. The top lock was unlike any most people have ever seen. I thought it was normal because it had been there my whole life. It was a dead bolt with a round key with a notch at the top. Kind of like the ones you see used for safes and office cabinets. My husband says it looks like the keys they used to use to for “The Club” to keep people from stealing your car. That went twice to the right. Then there was another dead bolt. Once to the right. Lastly, there was the lock for the actual doorknob.

The side door also had two doors. The screen was that typical 80’s white door with the big button handle, but the interior door was like the front door. This door, however, only had 2 locks. One deadbolt and one doorknob.

We had a backdoor, but we never used it. It was more of a storm door coming off the basement than anything else. The door to the basement from the house had a chain lock like the ones they used to have in hotels. If you made it into our basement we had an accordion gate in front of the storm door that had a padlock connecting the gate to the wall. Then the storm door was locked from the outside with a chain and huge Master Lock the size of a softball. All those locks coupled with the bars on the windows and the thorn bush at the front of the walkway lead my husband to declare our house the least welcoming on the block. “Nobody in, nobody out.” “I’m glad nobody was ever chasing you home.” “Be honest, do you all have warrants” What kind of bomb shelter is this?”

I laughed, but when we got married and moved into our house I noticed that he wasn’t slacking in his security paranoia either. I walked in one day to find him shopping on the internet. I love all kinds of shopping and asked what he was looking for. He said he was looking for something for the house, but nothing looked like décor so I walked away and never thought of it again.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up a few weeks later to find him drilling holes in the floor by the front door for a kick plate. “I already did the one for the back door!” He was smiling and looking pleased with himself. “What is that?” “If someone comes and tries to get in or kick in the door this will stop it, because it can handle up to 1,000 lbs.” Who does he think is trying to battering ram into our house? Then, a couple days after that I see that he has added another latch to the door leading to our garage. I notice it looks like the latch that they now use on hotel doors. You know, like the one they use instead of the chain. Déjà vu! Then he pops another box and it has these doorstops on sticks that he propped against another door that will keep people from busting in there.

I am really glad that he wants to keep his family safe and considering how I grew up I don’t mind, but doesn’t this mean he has to eat a little crow about my childhood “compound”