Babies are asleep, so I've gone kind of blog crazy. Jameson has had a rough couple of days though, so I thought we might want to remember them.
Yesterday, my mom, Jameson, and I went to Sam's to get a few things. After we checked out, we stopped by their food area to get something to eat. At this particular Sam's they have the all-in-one table and bench combination where you're not really sure where the table ends and the bench begins. Anyway, they don't have backs. I think this was the first time Jameson sat in one of these. I picked him up, set him in the seat, and no sooner had I set him down and he was already leaning back and losing his balance.
I realized he was falling too late, but I managed to break his fall by grabbing his shirt. Nonetheless, he continued to fall head first toward the ground. I heard his head bonk against the concrete floor, and I picked him up right away. I was scared because it's a hard floor, and he was crying relatively hard. I took him to the bathroom to compose him, and he seemed okay within a couple of minutes. I could already feel the goose egg he was developing. He didn't show any signs of concussion or any other head trauma, so we headed home and I kept an eye on him. He seemed okay the rest of the night, and I was glad I was able to catch him at least enough to break his fall.
He still has his goose egg.
As if one spill was not enough, earlier today I was carrying up Truman after he had fallen asleep in his high chair. I told Jameson I would be right back. When I walked out of the twins' room, I realize that Jameson is at the top of the stairs waiting for me. I tell him to head back downstairs carefully. He turns abruptly, and loses his balance. He tumbles a couple of stairs. I don't panic at first because he seems to regain his balance. But as he tries to continue downstairs, he tumbles down another couple of stairs. Now, I start to panic.
I feel myself frozen, not sure what to do as I watch him tumbling down the stairs. He is falling slowly, and I don't know if I should try to catch him before he hits the ground. I am kind of afraid to stumble after or on top of him and make it worse. At this point, he is close to the bottom, and he has continued to stumble down slowly. Unfortunately, his tumbling accelerates on the last four stairs, and he lands with a thud, luckily not on his head, but on his side.
I race downstairs to pick him up and check for injuries. He seems okay and is more scared than injured. My heart is racing, and again, I find myself thanking God it wasn't more serious.
Two days, two falls, but apparently, no worse for the wear . . . somehow, somewhere, someone is watching over him when I cannot - or fail in doing so.