Several months ago Britney Spears had an unfortunate string of mommy mishaps. She drove with her baby in her lap. Her baby fell out of a high chair and had to be evaluated. She nearly dropped her baby on a concrete sidewalk. After the third mishap, the media pounced on her and pronounced her a bad mother. Since then she has had a complete, well documented melt-down, and the Britney bashing has gotten to be less fun.
Even were that not the case, I’m currently feeling a bit more sympathetic as I have just had my very own Britney moment. Last night, I dropped Simon. Unlike Britney, I wasn’t teetering in unstable shoes at the time. Alas, also unlike Britney, there was no nanny to catch the baby before almost dropping became plain ole dropping.
Let me now interrupt my story to say that we’re all OK. The pediatrician was called, procedures were followed, observation was close, and we’re all OK. OK?
The accident happened as I went to sit down with Simon to read him a story. He squirmed hard, I tried to tighten my grip, and he slid through my hands like silk. He fell about a foot or so and landed flat on his face on a thin rug on top of a hardwood floor. I heard a sickening thud, equally sickening silence for a few seconds, and then then hysterical crying for a good five to ten minutes. As awful as hearing him cry was, not hearing him cry was even worse. I nearly threw up and was shaky for much of the night.
The worst part of this is that I wasn’t doing anything careless, so I can’t ensure it will never happen again. The best part of this is that Simon himself seemed fine, was back to smiling, and even played with his ice bag shortly after the fall. Still, I’m hoping to avoid a repeat and therefore held Simon in a vice-like grip all day. I may have sqeazed the breath out of him, but he sure wasn’t going to fall again!