There I was, flat on my ass, having just watched Jewel’s head hit the living room floor. I was stunned and pissed as hell.
More than anything, I wanted to kick our m’er-f’in oblong yoga ball through our sliding glass door and off our 7th floor balcony…well, more than almost anything.
What I wanted more than anything was to get Jewel to stop crying.
It started around midnight, after Mama fed her and put her back in her bassinet next to our bed. Jewel drifted off for a short time, then lost her pacifier, then couldn’t quite get settled, and just kept fussing.
In the recent past, Jewel would have been in bed with us and Mama would have rolled over and popped a boob in her mouth to soothe her back to sleep. But we’re done with that now…as of a week or so ago. When Jewel was smaller and eating about every five minutes anyway, it did no harm. Now, however, she should be going longer between feedings and sleeping for longer periods of time–for her sake and ours, particularly Mama’s.
So, I finally got up and lifted her out of the bassinet. Because I don’t have a boob to pop into her mouth, my only option was to fall back to what I used to do to get her to sleep–bounce her on the yoga ball. I’d seen this moment coming, so I’d moved the ball into the living room, so I could soothe Jewel back to sleep without disturbing Mama further.
The only thing about our ball is that it’s ovoid, which means that it doesn’t sit still. So, holding an increasingly fussy Jewel, I rolled it out to a place where I could bounce on it, and then double-checked to ensure it hadn’t rolled away from me–this wasn’t my first parade. However, when I went to sit on it, it had shifted far enough away that I ended up flat on my ass.
Instinctively, as I went down, my arms shot out to counterbalance my backward fall. Unfortunately, however, my arms were also full of fussy–and now falling–Jewel. I recovered in enough time that her head really only lightly hit the floor from about an inch up. Honestly, she’s headbutted my clavicle harder than that, so I wasn’t worried–plus she was on the carpet, which has a good pad under it.
But I was still pissed.
Perhaps not as pissed as Mama, who when I told her this morning, vowed to stab the ball with a butcher knife, light it on fire and throw it off the balcony.
And not quite as pissed as Jewel, who was probably fussing because of her new tooth coming in, and who probably snapped her gums together when she landed, causing her new tooth to hurt even more. I couldn’t quite make out what she was screaming, but I think I did pick out the words “off the balcony.”
Turns out she is our child after all.
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