So Mom-O went out for a rare evening by herself and left me at home with pretty much one rule: don't send the baby careening down the stairs.
Oops.
Things were going well. Babe-O and I were hanging out upstairs, playing and having a good time. Eventually, she started fussing a little bit, as she's been teething lately. I scooped her up and headed downstairs, where there was an iced washcloth waiting in the freezer.
As soon as my wonderful, cozy Ugg slipper hit the top step, I knew we were in trouble. My toe landed firmly on the edge of the step, but my heel landed on what I knew instantaneously was my dog's red rubber bone, also known as a red rubber tripping hazard.
The bone, and my foot, slid out from under me and both of my legs went up in the air. It's amazing at how many thoughts you can have in a very short period of time:
#1. "Oh shit!"
#2. "Don't fumble the baby!" (as I swung her from the crook of my left arm to a crash position on my chest, wrapped in both arms)
#3. "No arms left to catch self!" (as the back of my head cracked the edge of a hardwood step)
#4. "If I black out, will that happen right away or will I have time to get Babe-O safely to the ground?" (as I slid down the flight of stairs, cracking my head on each step as I went)
#5. "Oh good, I didn't black out." (yippee)
#6. "Do I hear the garage door opening?" (I did.)
I had enough momentum that when I came to a stop, I was lying flat on my back on the floor. Babe-O was cradled across my chest, screaming, but unhurt. In fact, she had already been screaming because of her mouth pain and I'm not sure she realized that there was anything terribly unusual about that particular trip down the stairs.
I was barely back to my feet when Mom-O arrived to find me leaning against the kitchen counter with a screaming baby and in obvious pain.
The baby was easily settled down and we were sharing a shaky, relieved laugh a few minutes later.
I limped away from the thing and kept a persistent headache for the next 24 hours.
Anybody else have any heroic stories where they did something clumsy but managed not to break the baby?
Posts
I got one. Daughter is 6 months old, I'm upstairs working in the home office while she plays in the adjacent playroom.
ReplyDeleteI notice that she's starting to crawl a little and am happy that I'm hope to be able to witness this next baby milestone.
Baby's sitting in the playroom, well, playing with something. Nature calls, I run to the bathroom down the hall.
I hear a thunk, tumble, tumble, tumble, tumble, tumble....
I knew immediately that my 6-month old child crawling prodigy had just went down the stairs and I was terrified.
I went running and arrived just in time to see her hit the bottom. Luckily the steps were carpeted and she was born the scrappy athletic thing she is. Save for a few scratches on the side of her face, she was fine.
I was mortified and terrified. I think my heartbeat just returned to normal a couple of years ago.
Then there was the time I rushed outdoors to throw some trash in the tote. My older daughter who was about 3 at the time was standing at the screen door which I closed quickly & firmly to keep her in. She howled. About 3 seconds later I knew it wasn't a "you left me" howl, but a "I'm in serious pain, you stupid woman" howl and...yup...closed her tiny fingers in the screen door.
Trust me on this, Josh, there will be at least 10 times in the next five years that you will be sitting on the floor, rocking Babe-O in your lap whispering..."Daddy's so sorry, Daddy's so sorry, Daddy's so sorry"
My wife would kill me if she knew I once (accidneally) let our son take his walker (remember those?) down the basement stairs. Not a scratch on him, though!
ReplyDelete@zipdang22
ReplyDeleteWell...good to know that I've got much begging for forgiveness ahead of me. And I also plan to have a scrappy, athletic little girl. (We'll see how that goes!)
@anonymous
I'm told I made a similar trip when I was small. Also unscathed!