This morning I had to go to a serving alcohol training session at work and, since George worked too, I had to take Mase. The thing was three hours long - from nine until twelve - and it was going to be completely boring, especially for an eighteen-month-old. I spent the morning packing everything I could think of that would stand a chance at keeping him occupied and semi-quiet and ended up running out of the house with a backpack full of toys, a bag of snacks, a sippy cup, Piggy, and my purse. I put Mase on my hip and headed out to the cab waiting in the driveway.
Little did I know, it had just started to freezing rain. I took one step onto the sidewalk and lost it. With all that crap in my hands, there was no way I could catch us. I went down first, landing hard on the ground. Mase went down next, landing even harder, and his little head bashed off the ice-covered sidewalk. He burst into tears, I burst into tears, and the cab driver flew out to help us up. Mason's little dome instantly swelled up and he's now sporting a giant, purple, scraped up bruise above his eye, compliments of his own mama. He cried for two minutes. I cried all afternoon long. I worried about him having a concussion, obviously, but he's been acting like himself ever since, so I think he's gonna make it.
I feel horrible though. Beyond horrible. Especially since I walked away with only a bruised knee, hip, and elbow. Bad, bad Mommy. :(
No comments:
Post a Comment