Free range baby
You know, it just figures. Maelie is a force to be reckoned with. I don’t say that lightly, either. I suppose it’s safe to say she’s my kid, but she takes stubborn on to a whole new level.
I honestly believe that from the age of 12 months to about 18 months, kids are just plain difficult. And I know, I know, just wait until I have a teenager. Yes. But here and now? With reference up until almost 5? I’ll take what I know now.
I’m pretty sure that all my kids were equally difficult at this age, with Mae taking the cake.
As I mentioned just the other day, I found Maelie in the pedestal sink in the bathroom after I started making dinner. The day after that I found her hanging for dear life off of her highchair in an attempt to free herself.
The daycare ladies at the gym are constantly amazed with her. One day she was on top of the table, another time she was ‘walking the plank’ on the half wall separate between the main room and the toy pit. Typically that’s where they put the babies that need to be contained because of crazy acts, such as Mae’s. Her solution is to free herself.
Karen, a daycare lady, told me, just yesterday, “If you come in and she’s swimming in the aquarium, don’t be surprised.”
No, I wouldn’t. Not in the least.
When I come to pick up the kids and I find Maelie in the baby swing, I know why.
I always apologize and they smile and laugh, saying, “It’s just amazing to see where she goes.”
All this climbing is bound to catch up to her, though. While she is ridiculously agile, especially for a 14 month old, her time had to come sooner or later.
And today, it did.
In our kitchen we have a little table and chairs that is never used for anything more than storage. It’s honestly an eyesore and as hard as Matt tries to keep it neat and clear of things, I also live here and that goes over like a lead balloon.
Today, Maelie carried the kitty chair over to the table and used that to climb on to the other chair, and subsequently on to the table.
I had started making lunch for the kids and had my back turned to her, but I heard her squealing as if she was excited about some sort of accomplishment and I turned around.
This isn’t her first time on the table before, too, mind you. I have to unplug the toaster for that very reason.
I told her no, went to turn down the heat on the stove because the water was boiling over and as I went to turn back, I heard the inevitable thud.
When she first lay there, I didn’t think it was too bad, so I picked her up and held her close. Then she pulled away and that’s when I noticed the blood.
Like, a lot of blood. Gurgling in the back of her throat, gross blood.
I’m good with things like that, and typically stay calm, but Mae was having none of that calm business. She was pissed. Rightfully so.
But I couldn’t get her to let me see where the bleeding was coming from. Did a tooth go through her lip? Did she bite her tongue? What?
Then I looked closer and saw a red abrasion and bruising on her jaw. Yup. Maelie’s fall was broken by none other than the kitty chair. The corner of it to be exact, as later I found blood on it.
I got the bleeding to stop and gave her some frozen yogurt and a Motrin and she seemed genuinely unphased. So I called Matt to finally freak out.
He, of course, didn’t seem so shocked or surprised.
Then I surveyed the scene.
Mae got jacked.
That is not how I like my day to roll.
Maelie, though, just wanted lunch. She could care less about how much her mouth may or may not hurt and wanted her food, damnit. So I set her up and she ate all the shells in sight and strawberries and called it a day.
And I’m sitting here still back a few hours ago when I was in a slight panic and shaking my head.
As my mom said the other day, it’s any wonder how we get out of childhood alive.