When Brian and I first bought this house, the furniture that we had to fill it with consisted of a bed, a TV, a couch, a love seat, and a desk.
We ate on the floor for awhile and then decided that was for the birds. Or some other creature that sits on the floor to eat.
We were poor. And we were cheap. So we bought the cheapest, for-poor-people table and chairs we could find.
And they are cheap.
The chairs are poorly designed, being incredibly top heavy. The table top is glass. I knew it was only just a matter of time before there was an 'incident'.
Well. The time came two days ago. I was doing the dishes (again) and Lydia was over by the sliding glass door (which is near the table) babbling away to herself. I peaked over at her and she was busy smashing her mouth and nose up against the glass door, so I went back to my suds.
Then, CRASH! BLAM! POW! SCREECH!
I ran over to my screaming baby and HORROR!
She was flat on her back, pinned to the floor with a toppled over chair RIGHT ON HER FACE.
I couldn't believe the GUILT I felt. I moped around the house all day after it happened, replaying the events that led up to the 'incident'. Why wasn't I watching her more closely? Why did I let her play over by the table and chairs? Should I take her to the doctor? What if she's concussed and I let her go to sleep!? And on and on. I mean, really getting a little irrational, here. Then I happened to run into my neighbor just as he was getting back from the library with his two year old son.
I poured it all out to him. The incident. How bad I felt. "Just look at these bruises on her face!" I lamented. He looked at me with a knowing but sympathetic smile and said the following:
"Get used to it. Because it won't be the last time. Not by a long shot."
And that's when I realized:
I was in for it.
11 comments:
Oh I can just see her big crocodile sized tears now. Big hugs for both you from far, far away.
Joshua once slipped on spilled milk and cut himself right near his eye. As I saw the blood in his eye, I thought he was going to be blind.
Yeah, get ready for some serious bonks.
Every time Kev accidentally hits the baby with his gangly limbs I'm like, oh well.
If I let myself get worked up over all the accidents, I'd need to be hospitalized for my crazies.
I'm not looking forward to when Aspen is mobile and getting into bigger scrapes though.
Dude, I hear you. Lola pulled herself up on the side of the bathtub, only to slip and slam her head on the porcelain. MEAN bruise. I think I cried more than she did. Hope little Lydee is doing OK!
I remember a little blonde girl with big blue eyes who happened to be left handed that had not one, but two casts on her little bird legs. She is still precious.
Dad.
Abby, Anytime Dad saw Klara she had a bruise or two (she's my tumbleweed girl). He always asked who her case-worker was. You get to feeling that maybe every child should have one!
We can't watch them every second so you just pray that you or some other angel will be there for the really serious moments. Isn't parenthood such a roller coaster ride? Intense, huh!
Love, Meg
Sounds like this is the first chapter of a very long story. Seriously, the way you wrote the post makes it sound like there's more in store. And there is, my friend. Although I think I'm a bit jaded with boys. I expect them to be pretty tough and they are.
Oh I am so sorry! And I hate to say it, but Brian is right. Have you read my blog?!
And just FYI...they all just might fall down the stairs, fall off the couch, etc. etc. It just happens.
You are a great mom and if we walked around following their every move not only would we get nothing done, but we would go crazy! Both mom AND child!
I can't tell you how many times something like this has happened at our house...how about watching you'r little guy fall right down the stairs with you at the top, watching helplessly...we've all survived...worse stuff too!
Surprisingly however they never get easier to witness or kiss better. Your heart breaks every time. Glad she's OK!
Post a Comment