I was doing a headstand in the living room when I fell over on top of my daughter.
What?
It’s not like I’m a professional head stander or anything. I’m just really into yoga right now.
She had a frying pan in her hand. The frying pan was full of some delicious imaginary eggs that she had cooked up for me in her play kitchen. Then suddenly the frying pan was full of her forehead as it came crashing down into it chased by the force of my own precarious body.
She cried. I held her. And in the end it was nothing a sippy cup of milk wouldn’t fix. I imagined a much bigger bruise would appear, but it became nothing more than a bad scrape.
The next day, I was trying to get my homemade macaroni and cheese dish ready to take to the potluck. The kids busied themselves with the metal rod that serves as the locking device on our sliding glass doors. The Lil’ Man pulls it up and tries to carry it somewhere random in the house as he does with everything else that isn’t bolted down. But this rod is bolted down. So it becomes a play thing/source of frustration for him that I was happy to see them preoccupy themselves with while I was stressing out the door. Then, he let it go on Z’s shin. A square metal rod that is probably the original one from 1973, when our house was built. There is nothing child safe about it. It didn’t cause any blood, but it left another visible scrape.
At the potluck, already multi-tasking, she was playing basketball in the front courtyard while holding a sippy cup of milk, and she slipped on the edge of the pavement, sending the bare skin of her knee down onto it.
In case you’ve lost count, that’s three scrapes in one weekend.
I heard her walk into the room behind me while I was doing the headstand. But I was unsuccessful in falling in the opposite direction.
I knew the metal rod in the door was not a toy, but I was too busy to tell them to play with something else.
I didn’t have to give her that sippy cup right then, while she was in the middle of playing ball. I thought she might be thirsty.
I wish I had thought otherwise.
I take the blame for all of her scrapes. Which don’t even hurt her anymore.
Not like they hurt me.
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I'm still Zellmer, and these are still my Z files. Welcome to Rockzee.
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Thanks to Beth at Mile 17
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- Wendi Aarons
- Mouthy Housewives
- Mile 17
- The Bean
- A child is born
- Slouching Towards 40
- Poot and Cubby
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Lines I love
- I suppose sometimes all we need to make a change, is to be a little disconcerted.
- "There is a mountain as big as everest between what we know and what we feel." Slouching Mom
- "If we were fish, we'd still be swimming inside the plastic bag." - Vanessa Johnson
- "Whenever I don't know what else to do, I just go talk to a Lesbian." - Mindy Labernz
- "Wit doesn't grow on trees!" - KC
- I walk a fine balance almost daily of going mad with stress and mad with love.
- "Corporate culture has the same tolerance for parenting as sulfuric acid does for skin." - Baby Daddy
- "It is a universal truth that a neurotic mother in want of a worry will manufacture one." -Slouching Mom
- "There is too much space between people and paper." -Binky
- "Don't ever cry over something that can't cry over you." -Cheewa James Modoc
- "Like ivy, we grow where there is room for us." -Miranda July
- On Motherhood: "No way somebody did this for me!" -Vanessa Johnson
- "Nothing says I'm an asshole like driving a Hummer." -Chris Davis
5 comments:
Well, if that's the case, I hope you feel better soon. But I know she's not holding any of the hurt against you!
Yeah, so Jude dumped a full glass of water (his new bad behavior) on our rug from India, and I, fed up, popped him on the butt, and he later retaliated by hitting me in the face A LOT(where did he learn that?), and then bit me on the toe so hard it bled, so I bit him back, and he looked at me like I was a crimimal.
cause i clearly am. talk about guilty.
Well, doesn't that suck. I "let" my daughter burn her mouth on some food last night. It's the first time she has done that. She screamed in fright. I RACED over there and scooped it all out. And felt like total shit the rest of the night.
yep, i can recite in detail every little scrape willow has ever gotten. i am always angry at myself for not doing a better job, even when i wasnt with her at the time...and just writing this sounds crazy!! cuz i dont remember any of my bruises as a kid. all i remember is mommy always stopping whatever she was doing to hold me while i cried it out.
When something happens to Baby Girl when I'm with her and maybe I wasn't the perfect Mom, I confess to my husband right away. If he hears my story and says "yep, that sucks" and "that is pretty normal" then I can let it go. He does the same with me. I like the ritual of it and how I feel supported by him.
It's hard to see them get hurt, but I think being 100% viligent, trying for a 0 accident record, would have mental consequences for all involved much worse than a scraped knee...
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I was doing a headstand in the living room when I fell over on top of my daughter.
What?
It’s not like I’m a professional head stander or anything. I’m just really into yoga right now.
She had a frying pan in her hand. The frying pan was full of some delicious imaginary eggs that she had cooked up for me in her play kitchen. Then suddenly the frying pan was full of her forehead as it came crashing down into it chased by the force of my own precarious body.
She cried. I held her. And in the end it was nothing a sippy cup of milk wouldn’t fix. I imagined a much bigger bruise would appear, but it became nothing more than a bad scrape.
The next day, I was trying to get my homemade macaroni and cheese dish ready to take to the potluck. The kids busied themselves with the metal rod that serves as the locking device on our sliding glass doors. The Lil’ Man pulls it up and tries to carry it somewhere random in the house as he does with everything else that isn’t bolted down. But this rod is bolted down. So it becomes a play thing/source of frustration for him that I was happy to see them preoccupy themselves with while I was stressing out the door. Then, he let it go on Z’s shin. A square metal rod that is probably the original one from 1973, when our house was built. There is nothing child safe about it. It didn’t cause any blood, but it left another visible scrape.
At the potluck, already multi-tasking, she was playing basketball in the front courtyard while holding a sippy cup of milk, and she slipped on the edge of the pavement, sending the bare skin of her knee down onto it.
In case you’ve lost count, that’s three scrapes in one weekend.
I heard her walk into the room behind me while I was doing the headstand. But I was unsuccessful in falling in the opposite direction.
I knew the metal rod in the door was not a toy, but I was too busy to tell them to play with something else.
I didn’t have to give her that sippy cup right then, while she was in the middle of playing ball. I thought she might be thirsty.
I wish I had thought otherwise.
I take the blame for all of her scrapes. Which don’t even hurt her anymore.
Not like they hurt me.
Guilt
What?
It’s not like I’m a professional head stander or anything. I’m just really into yoga right now.
She had a frying pan in her hand. The frying pan was full of some delicious imaginary eggs that she had cooked up for me in her play kitchen. Then suddenly the frying pan was full of her forehead as it came crashing down into it chased by the force of my own precarious body.
She cried. I held her. And in the end it was nothing a sippy cup of milk wouldn’t fix. I imagined a much bigger bruise would appear, but it became nothing more than a bad scrape.
The next day, I was trying to get my homemade macaroni and cheese dish ready to take to the potluck. The kids busied themselves with the metal rod that serves as the locking device on our sliding glass doors. The Lil’ Man pulls it up and tries to carry it somewhere random in the house as he does with everything else that isn’t bolted down. But this rod is bolted down. So it becomes a play thing/source of frustration for him that I was happy to see them preoccupy themselves with while I was stressing out the door. Then, he let it go on Z’s shin. A square metal rod that is probably the original one from 1973, when our house was built. There is nothing child safe about it. It didn’t cause any blood, but it left another visible scrape.
At the potluck, already multi-tasking, she was playing basketball in the front courtyard while holding a sippy cup of milk, and she slipped on the edge of the pavement, sending the bare skin of her knee down onto it.
In case you’ve lost count, that’s three scrapes in one weekend.
I heard her walk into the room behind me while I was doing the headstand. But I was unsuccessful in falling in the opposite direction.
I knew the metal rod in the door was not a toy, but I was too busy to tell them to play with something else.
I didn’t have to give her that sippy cup right then, while she was in the middle of playing ball. I thought she might be thirsty.
I wish I had thought otherwise.
I take the blame for all of her scrapes. Which don’t even hurt her anymore.
Not like they hurt me.