mornings with school children can be crazy. this was no exception. we were rushing to get out the door. i was handing harry his backpack, and shooing taco to the van. fussy started fussing, and i reached down to pick him up as i was descending down the stairs in the garage. i picked him up because i knew it would quiet him, and since it takes him forever to go down the stairs, to the van, and to his seat by himself, i prefer to actually get to school on time.
i went down the cement stairs. it just so happens that the act of picking fussy up, threw off my balance. as i was twisting and trying to save my landing, i found out that an extra 25 pounds on my left hip really didn't help at all. in fact that 25 pounds is precious to me, and as i was trying to save him from cracking his head on the concrete floor, he actually did crack his head on the concrete floor. along with my left elbow and my left knee. and my pride.
fussy was half in my arms screaming. of course he was, he just smacked his head on the dirty garage cement. i was pissed because i was hurting too. i knew my elbow was going to bruise, and i knew my knee was hurt. however injured i was, it was time to go to school. so holding fussy, we got up and took the kids to school.
i was thinking about it later while i was running. with every step, my knee throbbed, not because i had messed it up, but because i had skinned it, and my pants were chaffing the raw skin. with every throb, i kept thinking of my blunder, and wondering what i should have done.
i mean, we've all done that. we've all missed the bottom step. even more so, we've probably all done it with a child in our arms. i kept wondering if i hadn't picked him up, but took his hand instead, or if i dropped him as i was falling...he might have just dropped to his butt and therefore not hit his head, and i could have regained my balance.
it makes you think. sometimes we work so hard to protect our kids, that in the end, we end up hurting them more. and we come out worse for it as well.
i've felt that way a lot, like my butt has hit the ground. or that i have been dropped. but i do know that the more we let go, the more our kids have to grow (or in my case, actually walk to the van). i guess it's really all a balancing act between knowing when to make them walk, and knowing when to carry them along. i do find that the times that i carry them, are for my own selfish reasons. it seems a little walking is the best parenting a parent can do.
we are all fine. a goose-egg appeared for a couple of minutes, and his name IS fussy, but he is now his normal sweet fussy self. even though i am paid and training for my race this summer, i don't have a good enough injury to actually stop me running, even if i wanted too.