It's been a long while since my last post where I reported on Little Husband falling off the couch. While we've had many, MANY bumps and bruises since then, none have been quite as scary. It was all in the way that he was crying that day...it was just...eerie.
Moving on, he is walking about 95% of the time and currently sports at least nine bruises (total) on his shins, a permanent knot in the middle of his forehead and traces of a black eye. Needless to say, I am afraid to take him out in public for fear that someone will report me to Child Protective Services.
It's not my fault. No matter what I do, where I stand, or how many precautions I take, the kid finds a way to get hurt. The other day I was standing in the kitchen cooking and he was tumbling around at my feet, playing in the kitchen cabinets and drawers. (Side note: We have 31 kitchen drawers, so needless to say we do not put locks on all of them. We only lock those that contain something dangerous.) Anyway, I glance down at LH just in time to see him open a drawer, slip and bump his head on the corner of it, then ping-pong into another open drawer and bump his head on the corner of that one. Of course there was much wailing and shed tears for the next few minutes. Oh, and two more bruises on his face.
I was taking a video of him that same day and accidentally captured this (the latest bruise occurs at the end of the video):
I'm glad I have it because if anyone calls the authorities on me, I now have proof that we do *not* beat him.
A few days ago Husband had the ladder out because he was trying to get LH's Valentine's Day balloon down from the ceiling in our living room. Literally two seconds after Husband retrieved the balloon and climbed down from the ladder we turned to see this:
I know, I know--why am I stopping to take a picture of my 15-month-old son on a ladder rather than running over to rescue him? The truth is, as soon as we saw what Little Husband was up to Husband raced over to grab him. I edited him out of the picture, but he is right behind LH.
In other news, I was at Gymboree with LH the other day and started chatting with a mother I'd never seen there before. As always, we traded info on our babies ages and discovered that our kids were born on the same day and in the same hospital. Further conversation revealed that she was in the delivery room right next to mine. I remember her clearly because we had the same nurse. I remember not seeing my nurse for four hours because, as it turned out, she was attending to this woman's emergency c-section. I've always worried about her in the back of my mind and am so glad to know that she and her baby did just fine.
Finally, yesterday Husband and I decided to go check out open houses. We both love real estate and enjoy seeing remodels, infills and new homes. When we attend open houses we try not to engage the attending realtor as we do not want to get their hopes up or waste their time. We visited one such home yesterday with a realtor whose eyes lit up when she saw us walk in. I guess we met the profile of a potential buyer for that home. She chatted us up while and we did nothing to squelch her perception that we were in the market for a new home. She watched as we looked around the main level and apparently watched us out the window while we looked around the yard. I know this because she said, "did you figure out a way to fence in the grass?" which is exactly what we were doing when we were out there.
The reason we went to see this particular house was because we looked at it one year ago when we were serious buyers and were surprised to see that it is still on the market--it was a very cute house! We went there to analyze it and figure out why. Yes, we have no life.
Anyway, as we were leaving the realtor asked us to sign her guest book. Damn--I hate giving information about myself when I'm fake-shopping for a house. I looked at Husband but he was holding Little Husband so he got a pass. It was up to me to sign the blasted guest book. I walked over and---just as I wrote in a fake name--the realtor declared to Husband, "I know where I know you! You're (insert husband's full name here) and served on the board of such-and-such charity!" "That's right!" smiled Husband, his halo glowing. Damn again. What to do? It wasn't like I could exactly scratch out my fake name and write in my real one, so I decided to run with it and write in a fake address as well. Just as I commenced doing so, I heard Husband tell the realtor the name of the street that we live on. Great. Now she's going to thing that my saint of a husband is married to a fake and a liar. Wanting nothing more than to just get out of there, I decided to go for broke and--once I finished with the guest book--interrupted the conversation with an abrupt, "Okay, let's go." Startled, Husband said his goodbyes and followed me out the door.
I truly didn't mean to be rude, I just wanted to get out of there before she uncovered any more of my wicked lies.