You know that moment where you start to get a little too comfortable with your job? Perhaps a little cocky even? For me, after two years of stressing over every little thing, that day finally came. It wasn't just one thing I decided to be flippant about, it was oh so many things. Here is my story.
One rainy day I was packing up the car for our morning out. We were going to the gym, then to one of his Little Gym classes, right across the street from each other. His diaper bag was overflowing because I hadn't organized it in awhile so I decided to quickly remove anything we didn't need. Extra set of clothes? Oh please. I know my son. He hasn't needed a change of clothes in ages. Wipes? Well, it's a new, really heavy pack and he already pooped for the day so I can take these out for now and replace them with a lighter pack later. His lovie? He hasn't been too attached to this lately and he'll be too distracted with his friends to ask for it.
See that? Cocky.
I wish I could say it ended there. These things on their own would have possibly been ok. But then on my way from the gym to Little Gym, we were in a rush and I thought to myself, "Do I really need to be strapping him into his stroller every single time at this point? It's not like he would just jump out. No, let's just toss the kid in there and be on our way. Let's save the 4 extra seconds it would take to buckle him up." At the same time this was happening, the final ingredient in this perfect storm was looming only 50 feet away from us...
So across the street we went. Briskly. Because of course it was also raining. You know what happens to holes in the street when it's been raining all morning? The holes fill with rain so you can't see the damn holes. And then it happened. The front of his stroller landed in the hole and hit the edge of the sidewalk, completely stopping the stroller... yet not the momentum of my unbuckled toddler... who then went FLYING out of his stroller. I tend to exaggerate. I am not exaggerating when I say he didn't simply tumble out of his stroller. The child flew.
And landed belly first into another unfortunately placed puddle.
Before any of you call CPS on me, he was unharmed, alright? But man was he ever covered in mud. And not just regular mud- street mud. First thought- let's wipe the muck off his face and arms. Wipes? Nope. Ok, change of clothes? Nope. Ok, now he's screaming for his lovie which will definitely calm him down. Well... shit.
You know all those peppy mom blogs that always end on a positive message after you had a really bad day, reminding you that you, as a mom, Are Doing The Best You Can And You Are Awesome!! Yeah, well this isn't that blog and sometimes you are not.
And if this ever happens to you and you say to yourself, "Well, he's only two, at least he'll forget about this by tomorrow." Guess what? Your child who forgets things that happened eight seconds ago and forgets riding on a train at the zoo you took him to and the special cake you made for his birthday... that same child will, two weeks from the incident, put on the same shirt he wore that day and say to you, "Hey Mommy! Remember when I wore this shirt and you threw me into the street?" Because of course he'll remember that.
At least he'll smile while saying it.