I promised a while back, I’d share another embarrassing story about what a total disappointment I can be as a Mother. This one’s a biggie so go grab a coffee, take a bio break or whatever you need to do, because I cannot be responsible for your reaction, mental or physical, to this one when you read it.
Seven years ago, I was out shopping for Christmas wrapping paper at my favorite place on earth, The Container Store. It’s an annual excursion that The Man and I will probably be making this weekend. That year however, I was on my own though as The Man was at work and so I ventured out with one six week old infant and one potty training almost three year old in tow. I thanked numerous customers as they ooo’d and awe’d over Miss G…she looked adorable, no doubt about it. Sorta like this:
My Christmas papers and their bows at that time were a work of art. First a main “theme” paper would be chosen. Then, about five different selections that compliment the winner of the main “theme” would need to be found. Meticulous precision was applied to this process and the time involved was nothing short of legendary. (BTW, this was way back when I had the time to think it through, in the years since, I’ve seriously looked at trying a brown paper bag theme, and bows would be optional) Papers were examined carefully, auditioned against other papers for their ability to blend, yet leave the main theme paper dominant. The Container Store was the only place this could happen because they have the best selection and the best quality. And yes, I am aware that all of this collectively makes me a huge pain in the ass. But you already knew that, right?
After making my final starring and supporting cast wrapping paper selections, the three of us proceeded to checkout. That’s when Mr. C sounded the bell that it was time to make a side trip to the restroom. When you are in the middle of potty training there really is no time to waste and so we high tailed it to the bathroom. Thankfully, the extra big stall with the diaper changing station was open and we ran in.
I decided to go for a two for one and while Mr. C did his bidness, I woke up my perfectly behaved, well dressed little angel to change her diaper. Miss G complied by opening her enormous blue eyes and flashing me the most adorable cherubic toofless grin.
Mr. C, however, decided compliance was not in order that day. He finished his bidness and summarily ran out of the stall and much to my horror continued on through the open door of the restroom and into the general population just as I was finishing her diaper up. In my mind, in this highly civilized store, there was the one person lurking immediately beyond the door who would grab him and take him away from me forever as he ran out by himself. And I freaked. Big Time. I snapped her onsie shut threw her pants over my shoulder, put her in her carrier and picked it up full steam ahead.
Only I forgot something.
In my madness, I had not fastened the seat belt in her carrier and as I lunged forward, the handle locked and tiny Miss G became a baby projectile. She sailed through the air silently as I dropped the carrier and tried to catch her all the while yelling, “SOMEBODY STOP HIM!!!!”. I realized at that moment my catching skills suck and she landed, face down, on the floor of the bathroom with the most sickening THUD I have ever heard. For what seemed like eternity, but was probably about 2 seconds she didn’t move…because let’s face it, at six weeks she couldn’t lift her head and was more than likely as stunned as I was and wondering…”What the hell, Mommy???” I reached down and grabbed her up, she looked confused and there was a little blood coming out of her nose.
Convinced I had killed or at least limited her ability to ever have a cohesive thought in all of her life, I ran screaming from the bathroom only to be greeted by a woman who worked there and had heard all the commotion. She had grabbed Mr. C and had him in hand as I sobbed and put Miss G back into her carrier, carefully snapping the seatbelt this time. She even helped me to the car where she gave me a hug as I started to get in my car. (More reasons I love The Container Store…their employees are happier than those at Disney)
I called The Man at work and told him through my sobs how I had tried to kill our daughter as we raced to the emergency room. Miss G had dozed back to sleep at this point which I interpreted as a sign of a concussion. The Man was rushing to meet us at the ER and the whole way there I told Mr. C to do the things he normally loved to do, namely poke her and throw things at her to wake her up. Blood still seeping out of her nose and not waking up, we practically flew to the emergency room, Mr. C enjoying the ride of his life where he was allowed to torture this frilly little thing that had invaded his turf so recently and taken the spotlight off him.
We got there, and I ran in with both kids, still sobbing and basically telling them to go ahead and call CPS because I was the most horrible mother EVER and should not be entrusted with my own children. On and on I went, giving a graphic description of everything that had happened…I was almost hyperventilating.
Guess what they did?
They laughed at me. Yes, laughed. Because while I was busy telling them how I had tried to kill my beautiful baby by throwing her on the nasty floor of the bathroom, she had opened her eyes behind my back and was smiling at the receptionist. Like this:
After assuring me that this type of thing happens all the time and I was not in fact the very worst mother on the planet, they said she should be checked out just to be safe. The Man raced in, freaking out, just as a really hot Doctor came in to examine her. That’s when our daughter made her first big move….she blew a spit bubble at him and giggled for the first time in her life. Little bloody nose, freaked out mom, hospital scene in full force…this was Miss G’s first attempt at flirting.
Dr. McDreamy (because in my memory now he totally looks like Patrick Dempsey) laughed and flirted back at her at which point she pulled her utlimate “come hither” move and wiggled her toes at him. She checked out just fine but I think I knew at that moment, this little thing, this prissy girl I wanted all my life, had just Baby Punk’d me and would be doing so for a long time to come.
You know what? Seven years later, she still Punks us and she wins….EVERY TIME.
On the next edition of “Who On Earth Thought It Was A Good Idea To Let These Two Have Children” I’ll tell you how The Man and I taught Mr. C to cuss like a sailor before he was two. As far as parents go, we really are impressive.