I think it’s the obligation of moms with grown kids to share their baby bloopers so younger moms won’t feel horrible when they drop their babies or leave them sitting on the dryer. Following is what my baby blooper reel would include. Picture this:
- I hold my six-week old daughter in my arms, carrying her from the car to the house. Two hours of driving and she is finally asleep. A recent storm has left four inches of cold snow on my lawn. I carry her tiny body, holding her tightly against my nurturing bosom. Then I trip over a brick and drop her in the snow, falling hard on top of her. Luckily the snow gave way and she wasn’t hurt. I don’t know which one of us cried harder.
- I place my four-month old son in the car, strapped to his car seat. I stand in the mall parking lot, looking at his adorable face and thinking how blessed I am. I then toss my keys into the driver’s seat, hit “all lock” and shut the car door. This was before sensors prevented this kind of idiocy. I called for help, alternating frantic screams with faux smiles through the car window to keep my son calm. Ten minutes later Paul Blart, mall cop, unlocked the door by breaking several things. He was my hero.
- My daughter has cried for three nights solid, and I am exhausted. I call the doctor, blathering incoherently. He tells me to give her some paregoric, which is a strong liquid used to treat teething that makes the child sleepy. I don’t even ask if it’s slightly dangerous to give a two-month old this substance. I grab the bottle and pour it into the teaspoon as directed. Unfortunately, in all of the blathering I didn’t hear the part about diluting it with water.
I pour what is the equivalent of a shot of Jack Daniel’s down my baby’s throat. While choking and foaming at the mouth, she glares at me, eyes glowing like the pig in Amityville Horror. And she didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. In turn, I drank the rest of the paregoric.
- My son is five-years old and going through his Godzilla phase. To keep him entertained, I am (naturally) chasing him through the house playing monster mommy. We reach the living room and he runs from me, looking back and screaming in delight. He then trips over a nerf ball and falls. His head hits the corner of the stereo speaker and he ends up with four stitches in his sweet blond head. When asked at the hospital if he’d rather have his mom or grandmom in the room with him when he gets stitches, he chooses his grandmom. Godzilla takes her purse and waits outside.
I’m sure many of you have your own baby bloopers. Share them with young moms so they won’t feel so guilty the next time they fall asleep on the playground while their children play . . . well, that’s another of my stories.
What are yours?