You see, I have zero coordination. This is not news to any of you who have spent time with me. But on Sunday, Nov 8th, it manifested in a very scary moment for both Mommy and son.
Doug was preaching all three services at the Edinboro campus for church, so we had decided that we would attend Saturday evening together, and then I would stay home with the kids Sunday morning. This would work out well because we were going to be celebrating Grandma Andrew's 80th birthday for lunch on Sunday, and if I stayed home with the kids, I could get everyone ready, fed, and packed for the babysitter.
In case we haven't mentioned it before...John is a barfer. He barfs on us all the time. The poor little man has acid reflux, and just in general he spits up non-stop. It is a given that you don't put any clothes on that you actually intend to wear out of the house until seconds before departure because otherwise John will ruin your clothes.
So...picture it....I'm home alone on Sunday morning trying to get both children fed and dressed and packed for the day...and then John hits me with a 1-2 punch. First he drowns his outfit in barf, then before I can even get him changed, he poops up his back and down his legs and in between his toes...well...it's ugly. As I attempt to change his diaper, it becomes clear that this is a mess that will require a bath. So I finish wiping him up and then I take the cute little naked man into the bathroom and lay him on the floor on a towel so that I can run the bath water in the tub.
I reach up to grab our shower head (which is the kind that is on a hose) in order to rinse out the tub before filling it, and I bobble it and it starts to fall. My immediate response is to grab it before it falls and hits John. As my arms shoot up above my head to catch it, my elbow hits a medium sized wooden shelf that hangs on the wall and knocks it off. As my arms are going UP, the shelf is now coming DOWN, along with all the jars and bottles that were displayed on it. My brain recognizes what is happening a split second too late as my eyes drop to see the shelf land on John's head and face and the large ceramic jar hit the floor a foot away from him and explode into a million pieces. I scream as I see it happen.
John lets out a blood-curdling scream. His eyebrow instantly starts to bleed and swell.
There are now tiny little ceramic shards covering the entire bathroom like a powder, and larger sharp chunks and slivers lying everywhere. The tub is filled with them. John is covered in what looks like powder there are so many on him. I can't wipe them off...they will cut him. I can't put him in the tub to rinse him off...it is filled with more. I am shaking...John is crying...and less than 2 seconds have passed since this all began.
I scoop him up and run into the kitchen. I pull the dishes out of the sink that I had begun washing and I put his chubby little naked body in there and begin rinsing him with plenty of warm water. In a few seconds I have established that his eye is okay and that he is only cut in a few tiny places. Other than that, he is mostly scared. Now Mommy is scared. I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to do next. What if he has a head injury? How do you know on a 3-month old baby?
I call our amazing pediatrician, Dr. Russo...she answers her on-call cell phone and I start to sob. I LOVE Dr. Russo...and she is so amazing. She calms me down and I walk her thru what happened and she walks me thru the different things she needs me to look for. She tells me that she thinks he is fine, but gives me a list of things to watch for as the day progresses. And then she says this, "I think baby is going to be okay, but I think this was harder on mommy than it was on him. You call me back if you have any questions...any questions at all...even if you just need to talk, okay?"
Seriously....how did I get such a wonderful pediatrician for my kids???? She is fantastic. And poor John...he survived just fine. After his sink-bath and some warm clothes, he was back to smiling and cooing. I took some pictures of the swollen eye.
Poor kid. First shiner at 3 months old...and he got it from his mom.
We managed to pull ourselves together and make it to Grandma's lunch on time. But I can do without that kind of excitement, just for the record. I prefer normal, boring mornings over that any day!
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