Like Her Mother

I'm a klutz.  Always have been.  And, it seems, Maya has inherited that from me.

A few weeks ago, she stumbled- on the one patch of our living room that is tile and not carpeted- and fell on her toy... on her eye.  She had a nice little shiner for a few days.

Periodically, she lets her excitement to get somewhere impede her judgement to step over the toys strewn about the floor and will land plum on her fanny.

She has a thing where she loves to wrap herself up in her tights or PJs (whatever she happens to pull out of her drawers) and run around with them.  Last night, as she was modeling her PJs as a head piece, the legs fell down, tripped her up, and where does she land?  Face first on a plastic toy.  The words "You're okay" (my standard as I go to pick her up) die on my lips when I see red.  Literally.  Blood.  All over her face.

I pick her up and grab my cell to call Peter, who has just left for his monthly fathers group, The Guardians, at a local parish.  I cant tell where the blood is coming from, but it looks like there is a lot of it.  And, to make matters worse, she is clinging to me and wont let me look at her face to see what is going on.

Thank God for Kung Fu Panda.  I had put it on to distract the kids from Peter leaving after dinner and, having it on, Maya would cry but then watch the tv, cry and watch.  Finally, I was able to get a wet cloth and she let me wash her hands.  No blood coming from them.  Great.  Next, her forehead.  It took a while, but finally that was clean.  No cuts.  Great.  Then her chin- she wouldnt let me touch it.  I could see that her lip was cut but there didnt seem to be any active bleeding on her chin; it was just bloody.  By this point, Peter was home and he was able to get a good look at her to ascertain that she hadnt bit through her lip or cut her chin.  After he left to go back to church, I was finally able to finish cleaning her face and, all in all, there is this tiny cut on her bottom lip.  She walked around and sucked on the wet washcloth for a good half hour, before dropping it.  Since it was pretty nasty by that point, I quickly and discretely grabbed it and put it away.

She was fine and played with her toys, laughing and playing with Bobby and I, but my heart was in my throat. For such a tiny cut, there was so much blood!  I think I may have cried more than she did, but still!  And what does Peter say?  "Now you know how your mom must have felt every time she had to rush you to the emergency room!"

Okay, Mom.  Your wish of "May you have one just like you" has come true.  Can you now wish for Maya to not be as klutzy as her break-a-few-bones mother?  Please?  I don't know if my heart can take this!