Friday, November 30, 2007

Lowering the bar

Poor Megan at SortaCrunchy is beating herself up today because she forgot to buckle her three month old in her carseat, picked it up, and baby did a belly flop on the floor.

Today we went to the playground and I spent the entire time diligently staring at Maggie. Like a hawk. I mean usually, I flit my eyes from child to child, to my fingernails, to the sky, to child, to other mommies' tummies, to my tummy, to child, but today, mothers' intuition I guess, my eyes were on her like white on rice. Except for that millisecond when I glanced at one of my other offspring. You know what came next. Piercing scream, gushing blood. Ok, gushing is an exaggeration, but there was definitely blood. She had fallen, whacked her face on the metal bar of the slide ladder, and had a huge tooth shaped gash in her bottom lip. Poor thing is so swollen.

I remember the first time I hurt Shepherd. He was all of three weeks old. I laid him on the couch and reached down to pick up a bottle, and when I returned, he was nose diving to the floor, within inches of gouging his eye out on the gaping claws of the hospital breast pump's bottle holders. Split second! I completely doubted myself as a mother, cried way longer than he did - if you have children, you know the drill.

I was so embarrassed to tell my husband! The only reason I did tell him is because later that evening, he exclaimed that Shep had rolled over from his back to his tummy three times! So that explained it. Maybe I wasn't the world's worst mommy - he was just freakishly athletic. (He never rolled again until the normal three or four month mark - it was one of those flukey baby things.) I still felt pretty terrible.

Shep had amazingly strong legs. When he was 11 weeks old, Walker was holding him by one hand while he stood on the floor. Then wobbly Shep did a little spin twist, head first and whack! totally ate the carpet. Walker's turn to cry. I was secretly a little glad to witness it - now I wasn't the only unfit parent in the house. But, comeuppance came the next day when I attempted to toss the pacifier to Walker from about ten feet away and hit my tiny baby right in the temple (because I am freakishly unathletic). He had a bruise ya'll! Walker smirked, "Good shot, Mom" and I cried again.

Here's the difference a few more babies can make - when baby Maggie fell off the couch, I stealthily swooped in and caught her before she hit the floor (earning a 9.9 in the Mommy Olympics), and then congratulated myself heartily because she had made it seven months before she rolled off something! I even called a friend to brag about it. "Maggie fell off the couch for the first time today! She went seven months! That's a new record! Yea Mommy!"


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