The mommy perspective.

Juliette fell off her swing set yesterday. She was getting ready to go down the slide, and instead tumbled over the edge backwards. I was holding Cosette, and I saw it happen like it was in slow motion. My mother confided in me a few weeks ago that she dreads the day that she- or I- gets a phone call that Juliette has to be rushed to the emergency room. For a second, as Juliette tumbled to the ground, I imagined that I would be making that call. By the time I could even start to move she had already landed with a huge thud. She started screaming, my heart started pounding, I started breathing again, and I ran to pick her up. She had landed flat on her back and had the wind knocked out of her, but mostly she just scared the heck out of herself- and me. I looked for blood: none. I felt around for bumps: none. None of her appendages, her head, nor her belly seemed sensitive to touch. Thanks be to God!

For the rest of the night I watched her closely, worried that she had bumped her head or had one of those internal injuries that aren't immediately apparent; it didn't help that she kept saying "I not feeling well" but I think that was in reaction to our constant querying; when I tried to get her to say why she didn't feel well, her only explanation was that "I fell down, mommy!" as if she was stating the obvious and I was being extremely dense.

The same thing happened to my cousin when he and his family were visiting from San Diego for my sisters wedding. His mother handled it very well; at least outwardly she was much calmer then I felt when it happened to my daughter. At the time someone commented that we should put a board up to prevent backwards falls; after Juliette fell, the same idea popped into my head. I almost marched into the house to get a hammer and nails right then. This morning, however, I realized that I was being overprotective. That would leave the monkey bars inaccessible. Jungle Gyms are, inherently, not safe; I think the hardest thing to learn as a parent is what are the "acceptable" risks. As a kid, you look at a jungle gym and see hours of fun; as a mother, I look at the jungle gym and see falls and bruises and (imagine flashing neon red lights here) 'Danger!Danger!Danger!' Everywhere I turn, I have a new view of things: where I used to see fun, now I see potential disaster. Sometimes, when I'm trying not to be too protective, I look back at my own childhood and am amazed at what my mom went through. And my poor mother in law; she has so many stories about Greg's escapades; sometimes I am amazed he survived to adulthood. How did they handle it? Gracefully, lovingly, and with a lot more gray hair! I've got to accept that I can't protect my kids from everything; life is full of bumps and bruises and "Danger!Danger!Danger!". The challenge now is to regain the child's perspective, and see the fun again.