BooBoo
Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Today I totally dropped the ball. Metaphorically speaking of course. Literally, I dropped a child.
Mother. Of. The. Year.
Acquiescing to toddler demands, and an intensely prideful desire to keep the pick-up line moving smoothly, I scooped Destroy up in my arms headed toward the car with his brother by my side.
Two steps later, in those 4-inch stiletto heels I have such an affinity for, the school speed bump got the better of me.
I felt my ankle roll. DOWN GOES MOMMY!
I see the bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way.
I felt myself fall in slow motion. Clutching Destroy.
We hit the ground.
I watched Destroy fall back. I heard his head hit the pavement.
Tears filled my eyes. My stomach turned. I did this.
I frantically reached for my son, trying to brace myself for the blood I was certain was pooling on the asphalt around us.
With a second gasping breath, he began to wail. There was no blood – just a bit of shock. On all our part.
I remained on the ground. Shaking. Holding both my crying boys. I wasn’t worried about the pick-up line anymore. Because everyone had gotten out of their cars to come see what the commotion was all about.
Another two steps into this disaster and Search ate it across the parking curb.
I was now in the midst of a full-blown freak out.
Another concerned mother rushed over. “Let me help you get to your car,” she offered sweetly. She could clearly see the building hysteria in my eyes.
Were you dropped on your head as a child? WHO DOES THAT?! We made it through an entire bonus post-natal trimester with no brain bleeds only for all our hard work to be undone by the ineptitude of a mother who thinks heels look more powerful?
“I don’t know how you do it. I could never survive with two,” the nice lady said sympathetically. I smiled politely back at her and her two children as the six of us walked toward the MomMobile.
These are the reasons I blog folks…
I collapsed into guilty sobs the moment we were all secured in the car.
Destroy hopped right out of the car when we arrived home. “Hi Mommee,” he announced. “Keys.” He scampered off toward the front door, attempting to scale it in reach of the lock.
Turning back around he eyed me impatiently. “Baseball, please.”
Yeah. He’s fine.
My ankle’s a bit swollen and we three now have matching skinned knees. With Muppet band-aids to soothe our bruised egos limbs.
Thankfully, Mother’s Day was yesterday; this means I have 364 days to redeem myself. Or, possibly, Destroy’s already forgotten since he hit his head. It’s kind of like that week between Christmas and New Year’s. Since everyone knows that’s when Santa’s on vacation – so nobody’s watching who’s been naughty and who’s been nice.
And tomorrow? I’m wearing flats.
Who lets their small baby fall head first onto the kitchen floor from the non secured bouncy seat on the kitchen counter? I was sure he was brain damaged – nope, I guess that was just me. Welcome to the club – you are not alone! Sorry for the mishap – glad everyone is A ok.
It’s ok, I jumped out of a tree house
Given his (their) age, they’ll never remember this anyway. The head drop only helps that. So you are good.
Except you’ve written it all down in the blog, so despite no memory of said head-dropping, they’ll get to read about it (and future droppings) all the time.
Oh well, just tell them – Chicks dig scars.
I’m hoping this writing thing will pan out so I can make some additional money for therapy bills. Chicks dig scars – with Search and Destroy…chicks will seriously be digging my little dudes.
One morning while delivering my son to preschool, I took him for his morning spin (once around) as I got him out of the car. I lost my balance, and both of us hit the curb. I tore my pants, skinned my knee, and called myself retarded in front of the special ed teacher.
Not my best day.
My son was totally fine, not a scratch. Me, not so much.
Physically we’re all totally fine. But I think it’s safe to say my pride has been mortally wounded.
One of my twins was running around with my oldest child and crashed right into the corner of the wall. While I sat on the couch, asking them to stop. Blood everywhere.
He required 7 stitches. I hated explaining that one to the doctors.
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Go easy on yourself, it’s not like you did it on purpose. Besides, kids are rubbery little things and who wouldn’t want the chance to wear a Muppet band-aid?
I like your style!
I have 4, yes, 4 of those stories….my poor son was involved in 3 of them….the first one was at 6 weeks when I went back to work. Putting him in the car in the winter, I stupidly put his infant seat on the hood of the car, I let go of the seat for two seconds to unlock the door. He slowly slid off the icy hood while I frantically tried and failed to catch him before he hit the ground, face first. Thankfully he was totally mummified and only his nose was available to be scraped. But my baby had a scabby nose at 6 weeks. Explain that to people!! Sigh. At four months before I knew he could do it, he threw himself out of his infant seat while sitting on the kitchen counter. Again landing on his nose. Bad bad mommy!! I won’t bore you with the other two. We all do it. Live and learn, that’s parenting. Some of us take longer to get smart though, LOL.
Glad you all are fine.
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My mom left me alone in a room of the house for 2 minutes when I was 3 and when she returned I was nowhere to be seen.I had managed to climb some tall furniture and had flung myself out the window(about 2.5 meters high). She totally felt like mother of the year ha ha.I was totally fine(I was wearing several layers of clothes since it was cold and my mom didn’t want me to get sick during the 10 minutes that the window was open).