The other day I was finishing using the bathroom while they
boys argued with each other in the living room.
"I can't take this anymore! Go upstairs and aggravate your
father," I hollered, because I like to practice awesome parenting daily.
We removed all the baby gates from the staircases except for
the stairs at the top of the third floor as Ewan can easily walk up and down
the stairs; though I still either trail him or watch him from the bottom step. I
washed my hands and planned to walk over to the staircase and monitor him when
I heard it: FUMP, WUMP, THWAP! CRY, WAIL, SCREAM!
Foot stomps echoed throughout the house as I dashed over to
him and Chris raced to get downstairs. Ewan tried to carry his Thomas the Train
backpack up the stairs with him on his fat little legs; he got as far as the
fourth step when he lost his balance and toppled over, hitting both the front
and back of his head. He had a scrape on his forehead and a goose egg was
forming on the back. Before I choked on my heart I calmed him down as Chris
readied and ice pack. He was fine, except for his knot-head and scrape. I felt
awful. He fell because I told him to go upstairs when I should have been
waiting at the bottom of the stairs before I told him to go up. If I had checked
to see that he had his backpack I could've prevented the tumble, if I had
demonstrated a bit more patience I wouldn't have told him to go upstairs, if I
had used the restroom faster I could've been at the stairs quicker, and if my
aunt had balls she'd be my uncle.
There are a lot of "what ifs" in parenting. I didn't bring
my A-game and as an indirect result of that, Ewan has a knot on the back of his
head. Fortunately, it's shrinking. I could beat myself up over it or
acknowledge it as a lesson learned and a continuing opportunity to practice
true, non-facetious awesome parenting as best I can.
(Though I still snuggled the mush out of him today and slipped him a few M&Ms with his breakfast when he asked.)