My daughter has been teething. And gassy. And, she has a bit of a nappy rash, which I’m putting coconut oil and paw paw ointment on, and it seems to be doing the trick. (Watch out, Paleo-Mummy here I come.)
All good, she was a bit full on last night as she refused to sleep yesterday…
And then a drum falls on her tonight. My daughter is 8 months old with superb motor skills. I mean, I trust her not to hurt herself if she’s climbing on something most of the time. She climbs on EVERYTHING. I cannot stop this from occurring, I just can not. If I try and hold her back, she just gets upset. And I figure, well, go girl. Go and get what it is you want, within reason.
But a drum fell on her tonight.
The drums, the bane of my existence. Especially tonight.
The drums were bought for my husbands son upon the arrival of Miss 8-months. As a present. Now, we are NOT a well off family. We’ve made things work and sometimes have fallen a bit behind, but we’re ok. We thrive on our happiness, which comes in abundance. My husband, Toz talked his way into my agreeing to give his son some drums. The drums don’t get played. I try and play them for Miss 8-months sometimes because she seems to love percussion. However, I look at the space and think: CRAFT DESK.
But they are especially the bane of my existence, because now they have given my little girl a bruised little eye. Poor little moppet. She screamed like buggery. But she’s a brave ruggy. Oh so brave. She was fine about 5 minutes post-accident, and I was the one freaking out instead. So I called my Mum, three hours behind.
“Mum”, I said, “Sorry it’s late but…”
I started a similar conversation the same way 17 months ago.
Mum is a nurse. She is a damn fine nurse. She always knows what to say and how to say it, and always tells me good things and never freaks me out even more: just tells me what to look out for, &c. Tonight it was, “If she starts vomiting or is hard to wake up, then take her to the doctor.”
It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as that, but it had swelled up quite a bit in 15 minutes or so, and she did have a nice purpley-reddy pea size bruise just under her bottom eyelid. Oh, I felt like such a terrible mother at that point. But! Kids get hurt. I have to remind myself of that, or I’ll go mad at myself instead.
Time gets away from you when you’re a mother. Just doing this, doing that, cleaning up this, putting that away…feeding, changing. Did I mention cleaning?
So, I was stoked tonight when Toz took bub off my hands for about 15 minutes tonight (before she hurt herself) so that I could play with my machine a bit. I really wish my Year 8 Home Ec. teacher was here to guide me. I do remember how to thread a bobbin. I do! I will get there, because I have creations in my mind that I need to share.
Indeed, just you wait.