Friday, March 11, 2011

Parenting Tip # 55: Beware of Flying Beer Bottles

Morning Readers,

     While I wait for, yet another, round of tea for my ailing throat and head, I thought I'd take a second and put up another month-marker for the twins; yesterday being the big ten-month celebration of their success on this planet. Funny thing is, as much as it's my job to further this success, I feel, lately, that I'm doing my best to make sure they have brain damage. Now Readers, put down that phone; A call to social services is completely uncalled for. No need to frighten  poor social workers with my sad combination of striped nightgown and giraffe-spotted pajama pants this early in the morning. "Mrs. Kellerman, based upon those hideous pants, and the emotional stress you've caused giraffes, worldwide, we now relieve you of your child-rearing duties."

     Atrocious pants aside, I have growing concern for the part my clumsiness is playing in the well-being of the twin's thriving brain cells. Ever in search of my parenting handbook, I find myself at a loss, as to how one manages to avoid bludgeoning one's children, by accident.
     It sounds horrific, but it happens to even the most well-meaning of us parent-types. As was my case, two days ago. Like Snow White, I was deeply involved in whistling happy tunes and talking to birds washing dishes, when it happened. With a tug on my pants, an elbow flying through space, and one, well-positioned Guinness bottle, I was able to do what most people are able to avoid, in a bar brawl, and send it flying directly at my daughter's head. "Smack!"
     The "bad parent" alarm started going off again. And I found myself having to explain, to husband, that I'd just hit the baby with a beer bottle. He was understanding...but still, should you really have to explain how the baby ended up with the Guinness logo on her forehead? Umm...no.
     An isolated incident is one thing, but, as I said, I've been on a roll with this sort of thing. Smash-cut to bedtime, two hours later. Still recovering from the the saloon situation in the kitchen, my weary arms had scooped up both my little monkeys, in preparation for the night-time routine. With hips and arms laden with baby, I headed for the stairs. I'd only taken one (nay) half a step, when, "Thunk", and then more screaming. Damn. Turns out, babies, like side view mirrors, can "clip" the sides of things.
     As my daughter and I had begun our trip upstairs, my son had been left behind, abruptly "stopped" by the wall. Defeated,  I continued my climb up the stairs, trying, as best I could, to both comfort, and reassure my little boy that his mother's lack of depth-perception is no reason to hate her for the rest of his life.
     My kids don't need anymore help hurting themselves. We're at capacity. With the eighty-seven tragedies that occur, on a daily basis, around here, the babies are already doing their utmost to fall off-of and run-in-to everything that possesses a sharp edge or pointy corner, without any additional help from my lack of depth-perception. I'd be very interested to hear whether I'm the only one unintentionally injuring her children, or if this phenomena is wreaking havoc on other Reader's homes. Anyone?

Have a Great Weekend Readers! 


P.S Due to the disastrous circumstances in Japan, right now, please remember to send up some prayers!

-Paige