I’m not sure when grocery shopping became “me time,” but Sunday morning found me wandering the market, gloriously child-free.
I escaped the usual family shopping trip when Shaggy’s nap went long, interfering with our schedule. Mr. C had a work commitment in the afternoon, and we wouldn’t have made it back in time if we went together.
I shopped as slowly as I could. The kids were manic yesterday. The Poo twirled and skipped around the family room, dropping teeny-tiny toys in her wake, while the baby elephant-walked behind her, eager to ingest every choking hazard he could find. By the time I walked out the door, my head was buzzing with the precursor to a mind-numbing headache.
I even observed the speed limit on the way home. It was that bad.
Little did I know what waited for me.
I walked in the door laden with bags, to see my husband holding a screaming Shaggy—a screaming, bleeding Shaggy.
I stood there for a minute, mouth open, before I scooped him out of his father’s arms and onto the couch with me. I laid him back and saw bright-red all over his mouth. “Washcloth!” I barked. “Get me a very cold, wet washcloth.”
As I gently wiped the blood away, I could see that he had bitten his tongue with eight sharp puppy teeth—five up, three down. His tears dried quickly and he propelled himself head-first at the floor. I let him go, and sat back, my heartbeat finally slowing to its normal rhythm.
The story: he stood up on the low table where we house our desktop, slipped and whacked his chin. Then he fell backward and hit his head on the exersaucer.
And Mr. C was right next to him at the time.
I totally understood how it happened. The child makes a career out of seeking danger. He scoots around the house, often so quickly that he leaves his pants behind, in pursuit of the forbidden. Last week, I turned my back just long enough to answer a question for The Poo, and found him with his entire body inside our TV cabinet.
We are, to put it midlly, entirely unprepared for Shaggy.
His sister was so laid back that she didn’t bother to crawl until she was 11 months old. Then, bored with it, she simply sat down, until she could stand on her own two legs. She never stuck her fingers into electric sockets. She never chewed on cords. She never tried to get into the cabinets.
Shaggy? Check, check and check.
He turns 8 months old today, and last night he ate his first real solid food, homemade macaroni and cheese. He is *thisclose* to cruising from station to station, and he spends hours trying to stand up from a sitting position, without holding on to anything. He falls, hits his face on the hardwood floor, and then tries again.
He loves to empty the bedroom garbage can, dunk his face in the bathwater and tempt fate by playing within a hair’s breadth of deady sharp corners. He is working hard on pinching his fingers in the closet doors, and prefers hairbrushes to teething toys.
I admire his adventurous spirit, being a cautious old soul myself. He is going to be the one who lands us in the emergency room. Early, I fear, and often.
Sunday may have been his first blood, but this mother’s gut knows it won’t be his last.
{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
I fully understand the mundane as me time and I embrace it fully.
My sons still cause me heart attacks daily by being adventurous. The one that gets me EVERY time is the stairs. Preston walks right up to the very edge, never looks like he’s paying attention and I involuntarily gasp that he going to fall right down. And then, just as I reach out to grab him? He plops down on his butt and scoots down the first few. He’s fully capable of walking down, but I think he secretly enjoys scaring me more.
pgoodness’s last blog post..It’s a trampoline!!
Glad to hear it wasn’t anything serious.
The Chicken is our ER visit waiting to happen child.
Oh the stories I could tell-but I wouldn’t want to freak you out.
Domestic Extraordinaire’s last blog post..Helping bearded ladies one post at a time…
And so it begins…
slouching mom’s last blog post..Felix and Oscar
Boys. I try not to mention to new moms of boys how mine walked, I mean ran, at 10 months. Unprepared is an understatement. You my friend, are screwed. mwah!
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Aren’t boys a joy??! My mom was always at the ER with my brother for some reason or another, and I’ve found myself there many times with my boys.
I never believed all that boys are different, blah, blah, until I had one. I think my daughter was a little on the adventerous side, but nothing like my son. And boy can he bleed. I swear everytime he trips, no matter how hard or soft, blood gushes from his nose. That freaked me out the first time. I am happy to learn that at 3 yrs old, the boy is learning that when there is blood that maybe he shouldn’t do THAT again.
Good Luck and stock up on the band aids.
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I thought so too with my youngest…so completely different from his brother. He did everything Jacob wouldn’t or didn’t. We have yet to be in the ER. He is 5. It has taken everything I have in me not to squash his adventurous soul. I don’t want him to be a chicken like I am. I often close my eyes or turn my back. Sigh. Being a mother to boys…CRAZY!
I don’t think it is boys, I think it is second children. They are doing things bigger and faster simply because they have to keep up. MT is BY FAR more physically advanced than TB was at her age. She knows no fear and doesn’t find any of the stuff she does out of the ordinary.
Also, maybe because she is a second, I’m not as stressed out about it as I would have with him. When TB was learning to walk, he stumbled ad busted his face against the coffee table. I scooped him up and was halfway to the car to take him to the ER when DH caught up to us and made me stop. With her, she busted her mouth falling down the stairs (a couple of weeks ago) and I wiped her mouth out, handed her the “boo-boo bear” and told her “you won’t be jumping on the stairs anymore, will you?” and went back to cooking dinner.
Carrie’s last blog post..Hair cut day at Casa de Freak
My daughter took her first steps at 9 months. My son at 10 months. My third child (boy) blessed us by waiting until 11.5 months.
But it was the boys who damaged themselves.
amy@milkbreathandmargariats’s last blog post..Why?
It’s amazing how different two children from the same parents can be. My eldest is relatively calm and laid back, my second is a hellion constantly challenging us.
Kelly’s last blog post..I’m Elswehere
Sounds like you have quite the adventurer on your hands.
The boys do seem intent on hurting themselves don’t they?
Heather’s last blog post..Our Impromptu Tour of the Twin Cities
Oh man – hearing this brought back shivers of angst from when my kids were their age. Stay steady – you’re doing just fine.
tiff’s last blog post..One day left to vote
i know of these long drawn out grocery trips…and i only have one at home!
and not gonna lie. baby boys make me nervous. but i hear they love their mama’s the most
amanda’s last blog post..if you’re happy and you know it clap your hands
The age-old saying, “Boys will be boys” seems appropriate here.
As horrible as it sounds… that’s how they learn. They do something. It hurts. They (generally) don’t do it again… unless they think they have something to prove (yes, even at this age).
Don’t look around and constantly see danger for him… it’ll just drive you mad. Rather, just be as you are: vigilant. Yes, he’ll get hurt. No, it’s not your fault. Like I said, he’ll learn.
First off, I totally laughed when I read the first line because about a week ago, I thought that exact thing!
Secondly, I think it’s partly because he’s a boy! My Mom only had girls – me and my sister who is 2 years younger than I am. Since I’ve had my son, who is almost 3, she has told me how he has a whole other energy than we did, he is SO energetic, and rambunctious like we never were!
He’ll be okay, a little bump and scrape never hurt anyone.
Rachael’s last blog post..French Cooking, Demon Hunting, and My Little Ponies
When we were little, our pediatrician told my mother, “If they didn’t have bumps and bruises on them (the normal markings of an active childhood), I’d worry you didn’t let them have any fun.” And yes, I remember when my own were this age…not a day went by without a fresh bump on the noggin!
In other words, it’s perfectly normal! Hope he’s feeling better today though…and you too mama.
Carrie’s last blog post..How to Ruin a Marriage in 15 Minutes
He will crack his head so much you are going to wonder why he hasn’t suffered permanent damage. And it will happen most when he is with your husband. The popular refrain in my house is “He doesn’t crack his head until you get here! As soon as you get home and I turn my back, CRACK! But little kids heads are hard as hell. Wait till he starts head-butting you…Good times..
Oh yeah. I’ve got one of those Captain Dangerous boys myself.
Stock up on Bactine, butterfly closures and band-aids, Mrs. C. Take it from me.
P.S. The ER actually isn’t all that bad once you get past that first visit. Truly. They know what they’re doing.
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I feel your pain. Both of my children were action packed from day 1. They both had colic for 4 months then started crawling at 5 months, walking at 10 months and after that my son had a constant bruise in the middle of his forehead from banging into something or other on a daily basis.
Luckily they’re made sturdy!
Harley Quinn’s last blog post..My Little Girl Turns 3!
second children, man. they know no fear.
Emily R’s last blog post..And I didn’t have to lift my shirt except to feed the baby
Oh boy. My first son is like that. Yes, IS. He’s eleven now. Brace yourself for anything, and do a first-aid course if you possibly can. And stock up your first-aid kit. Seriously!
Just catching up with your posts, I’ve been at the beach!
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