About Sweetmama Editor
Nadine Silverthorne’s love of journaling began in Grade One with the entry, “I am the greatest dancer!” Two babies (and countless diaper changes) later, she has found her home away from home as editor of SweetMama. Don’t miss her humorous bi-weekly accounts of the joys and pains of working while raising them fabulous.
Child Proof
silver spoons canada
(Apr.06.09)
I know my home may be mostly child-proofed, but I'm not. No matter what precautions I take, somehow the kids always get hurt on my watch.
Now it could be that everyone else (husband, grandparents, cool aunts) don't report injuries back to me because I'm kinda of neurotic and anxious (did you guess that about me?). But whenever the big things happen -- the ones that merit calls to Telehealth or trips to the emerg -- they always happen when the kids are with me.
I am definitely more chilled out when it comes to my second child, but then I wonder if it's my relaxed attitude towards parenting Lucy that translates to goose eggs. Then I think, no, part of it is Lucy herself, who fears nothing and leaps upward or forward at every opportunity.
Saturday evening around 7PM (she's been going to bed around 7:30 or 8 these days) I was sitting on the floor, with Lucy on my lap, playing a sing-song game with her. Then she sort of lost her balance and began to tip over. I grabbed her quickly, but not fast enough to avoid her head connecting with the coffee table.
It didn't make a sound, but she sure as hell did. I could see a white hot line from the (bevelled-edge, oval!) coffee table on her forehead, and then -- just like a Bugs Bunny cartoon -- a bump grew. A giant, purply-blue bump. And I freaked out. Because all I kept thinking about was poor Natasha Richardson. So instead of comforting my daughter, I ran through my mom's house dialing Telehealth, while getting my boots on to go to the hospital. And my mom just stood there and said, "She's fine." Which, of course, she was.
Except I wasn't fine. And each time something happens I wonder, "Is it me?" I have several theories. One is that most of these freak occurrences happen in the evenings, when the kids are hitting their limit and walking around like a couple of drunks. (My husband works nights, so he manages to avoid these witching hours five out of seven weekdays.) Another theory is that there's some invisible accident quota and the kids decide to take their daily or weekly fall when Mom is around to make them feel better. But most of the time I just blame myself.
Is it just me that has this curse, or are there others out there who feel the same? Let me know. Login (top right) to leave your comments below. (*The photo above is of Lucy after she decided to flavour the cat's food with paprika. Yup, my watch again!)