I’m about to tell you a story that has scarred me to my core. TO MY CORE, PEOPLE! It happened a couple weeks ago at Ginny and John Michael’s baby shower in Pensacola. It has taken me the past two weeks to get over the events in order to find humor in them in order to share them on the blog.
It has been a long two weeks. Memories like these don’t fade quickly, let me tell you.
Ginny and John Michael’s shower, as I’ve mentioned, was beautiful. It was in a beautiful place with beautiful people celebrating a beautiful couple. Beautiful. Everything. Beautiful. (keep that in mind)
So, my two yahoo children were wandering around throughout the party. I don’t mind saying that my wee tots are pretty well-behaved in public. They have their meltdown moments, don’t get me wrong. But we always enjoy taking them to social events, especially social events where everyone loves children and several sets of grandparents are on hand…
So, my two yahoo children were wandering around throughout the party, checking out the presents and flashing killer smiles at anyone who looked weak enough to give them a cookie from the food table. As we all sat down in the living room to watch Ginny and John Michael open their presents, Chris and I tried to keep the kids from becoming the center of attention. Anyone with kids knows that this is nearly impossible. People love watching small children. They’re just fascinating. So, in an effort to try to keep the focus on Ginny and John Michael, Chris and I were stuffing the kids full of food and drinks to keep them entertained, instead of letting them BE the entertainment. And we were doing a pretty good job.
Until Gracie stood up with her plastic sippy cup in her mouth and decided to go for a little stroll in front of everyone. As she was walking right in front of all the guests and the beaming parents-to-be, Gracie face-planted. I didn’t actually see the fall, so I’m not sure what happened. But she hit face first, right onto her plastic sippy cup that was in her mouth.
My first response was to jump up and grab her to sweep her out of the room before she started wailing and distracting everyone. But when I picked her up, blood came pouring out of her mouth and I realized she was really hurt. Still not wanting to be a complete distraction, and while now trying to comfort my heavily bleeding toddler, I whisked Gracie off to the nearest bathroom, only to find it occupied. So, I ran down to the next bathroom. Occupied. So, we went into the kitchen, which was just off the living room where the presents were being opened.
Gracie was screaming. SCREAMING. And there were so many people trying to help and so much stuff going on that I couldn’t get her to calm down. She was bleeding so badly that I couldn’t tell what was hurt, and I immediately thought to myself, “If I have another child with a chipped front tooth, I’m going to call Child Services on MYSELF.” I ended up tipping Gracie over the sink (because she was bleeding all over herself and me) and splashing water into her mouth to try to get some of the blood out of the way so that I could tell what was hurt. I finally saw that it really wasn’t as bad as I was thinking. She had cut the inside of her top lip. It was bleeding more because of where the cut was than because it was hurt any worse than any other cut on another part of her body. Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, that I knew she was going to be okay, I had to get her calm down so that she wasn’t screaming bloody murder in the middle of this beautiful shower.
I ended up taking her into the laundry room (where it was quieter and where less people were trying to help) and rocking her, trying to calm her down. About that time, I remember thinking, “Where is my husband?????” And who should appear but the man himself. He stuck his head into the laundry room and I instantly felt better that he had come to help instead of all these other people who were just freaking Gracie out more.
“Hey, can you take her outside? She’s being really distracting,” he said.
Being aware that there were several people around – including grandparents, our gracious hostess, and a few people I didn’t even know – I gave him the “I dare you to say that one more time” look and stormed out to the front yard, and Chris went back to the party.
So, now I’m sitting out on the front lawn, covered in blood, holding a baby who is covered in blood, wondering what I’m going to do with us because – again – I’m trying not to make a scene in the middle of my sister’s beautiful baby shower.
And here comes Bean.
“Mommy,” he said, “I had a assident.”
I kid you not, Bean has not had an accident in over four months. Maybe five. Naturally, this was the day he would have one.
“Where’s Daddy?” I asked him.
“He’s inside,” he said. “I’s sawy, Mommy.”
Well, now what do you say to that?!?!?
“It’s okay, Buddy,” I told him, and pulled him into my lap with me and Gracie.
Perfect. Now I was covered in blood and urine. Awesome.
AND WHERE THE HELL WAS MY HUSBAND?!?!?
Thankfully, Chris’s mom came out front to check on things and I think I snapped something to her like, “CouldyoupleasefindyoursonbeforeIkillhim?!?!!” and she must have known someone was about to get their head chewed off because she left quickly and about 2 seconds later Chris appeared.
(insert argument here with colorful language that is inappropriate, both in front of our small children and in front of a beautiful baby shower)
After the argument, Chris ended up taking Bean home to his mom’s house, which was about 2 minutes away, to change clothes because, naturally, this was the ONE day that I left home without an extra change of clothes for Bean in my diaper bag. He returned, I passed him Gracie, who promptly bled all over him, and we decided to call it a day. After all, this shower was about celebrating the miracle of babies, and our family was rapidly bleeding and peeing all over that miracle. All while wearing party clothes, no less.
In the end, Chris and I took our two bloody, pee-covered offspring and headed home to ice Gracie’s fat lip and bathe them from head to toe. We may not be the picture of perfect parenthood, but what’re you gonna do? Babies fall down, accidents happen, tempers flair. It’s all part of the fun, right?
At least, I hope it is because that’s what I told my wide-eyed sister when we tried to hug goodbye without getting blood or pee on her beautiful white dress as we left the party. She didn’t look like she believed me, but I insisted in that sweet tea syrupy Southern accent that overcomes me in my hometown, “Oh, honey, babies are FUN!”
Let’s hope she believes me.