Boo-Boo

Now that Evan is crawling like a mad man and pulling himself up on everything within his reach he’s getting some boo-boo’s. I follow him everywhere of course and always have one hand on him while he’s practicing his standing, but my reflexes aren’t always quick enough when he loses his balance. He’s already had a few good head bumps. Poor, poor baby. The worst is his cry when he hurts himself. You know the one where there’s silence for 5 seconds followed by a blood curdling shriek?! Ouch! Oh, and I haven’t even told you about the boo-boo of all boo-boo’s. It happened over Christmas. We were visiting our friends in Toronto and Evan was on my lap at the dining room table. I was trying to do something with my right hand so I didn’t have both hands around him when he squirmed. He ended up falling over to my right and hitting his mouth hard on the table. I instantly felt sick to my stomach. I’ve never heard him cry the way he did after that happened. I took him in my arms and held him tight and told him I was sorry. Over and over again I said it, “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry!” Oh my gosh I felt so guilty. I ran upstairs into my friend’s son’s room and whipped out my boob in the hopes of soothing him. When I pulled him from my tight hold to put him on my breast I saw blood. Bright red blood was coming from Evan’s mouth. That’s when I freaked. I yelled for John and he came bolting up the stairs three steps at a time. There was blood all over my shoulder, and all around his mouth. John was calm, thank goodness because I was not. What happened was he cut his lip when he hit the table. A bit of booby juice and some ice and he was fine, thankfully.

You know I always thought I would be calm in the wake of a traumatic event (let's face it, all scrapes and bruises are traumatic when it’s your baby), but it’s something I have to work on apparently. I know freaking out doesn’t help the situation and I know there will be more boo-boo’s to come, after all, I have a boy on my hands! An active boy at that. I better toughen up.