It's official: I'm getting Scotty a helmet.
No, not the kind that shapes his head into a better, rounder head; his head shape is just fine. I'm looking for the kind that protects kids from head injuries as a result of general toddler clumsiness.
And clearly I'm not the first parent to feel the need to wrap my child in bubble wrap, since I found this after a quick Google search (key phrase: "my kid keeps falling"):
(photo courtesy of One Step Ahead)
No, not the kind that shapes his head into a better, rounder head; his head shape is just fine. I'm looking for the kind that protects kids from head injuries as a result of general toddler clumsiness.
And clearly I'm not the first parent to feel the need to wrap my child in bubble wrap, since I found this after a quick Google search (key phrase: "my kid keeps falling"):
(photo courtesy of One Step Ahead)
The little kid even looks like our Bear. Is it the chubby cheeks that make them so unsteady on their feet? The button nose? Who knows??
Baby helmet wearers, unite!
Back to the original point of this post. I'm done. Done with the constant falling on his face/head/nose/chin/noggin. Done with the fear that grips my little heart every time this kid face-plants on whatever object that is closest (a shelf, a table, the ground, cement). I'm done with the constant worry that his brain may be bleeding or swelling or doing something else it isn't supposed to. And so, my child will be wearing a helmet. Everywhere.
Yesterday was an absolute classic example of my turmoil. Scotty and I were at the park, waving to other kids and enjoying the 70 degree weather, when he decided to head over to the picnic area. Yes, you read that correctly: the picnic area. Not the scary slides or the giant tumbler thing, but the picnic area. And as he was walking, he just randomly tripped over a tiny pebble and came crashing to the ground, but not before slamming his little, adorable forehead into one of the metal picnic table benches.
Argh.
My heart just about stopped. It happened in slow motion, as these things do, and my arm was of course 1.3 seconds to late to catch him. Boom, crash, right into hard metal and within milliseconds there was a large, red welt. I hightailed it out of the park, ready to run red lights to get home (because nothing follows up one head injury than a car crash) in my quest for ice. He screamed the whole time, and then screamed louder as I held the ice to his head for five excruciating minutes. Within twenty minutes, there was barely a bump, but I feel like the image of my child falling forward has been permanently seared into my brain.
I'm not the kind of mom (if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know this) that believes a kiss makes it all better. I'm more along the lines of an MRI and full neurological evaluation to feel comforted. Call me the Jack Shepard of Motherhood, but I want answers grounded in facts. Screw this whole intuition thing -- I spent two hours post-fall staring at Scotty, shining lights in his eyes, trying to get a grasp on his mental status while monitoring him for any loss of consciousness, vomiting, or seizures. (thank you, Dr. Awesome, for disclosing the three hallmarks of a head injury to me. I repeat them to myself over and over again.)
Today, there is barely a bump, and I know most of you are thinking, "He's going to fall again. You need to get used to it." Yes, I know that. But that's why he's going to be in his helmet. :-)
Does it come in extra large?
Baby helmet wearers, unite!
Back to the original point of this post. I'm done. Done with the constant falling on his face/head/nose/chin/noggin. Done with the fear that grips my little heart every time this kid face-plants on whatever object that is closest (a shelf, a table, the ground, cement). I'm done with the constant worry that his brain may be bleeding or swelling or doing something else it isn't supposed to. And so, my child will be wearing a helmet. Everywhere.
Yesterday was an absolute classic example of my turmoil. Scotty and I were at the park, waving to other kids and enjoying the 70 degree weather, when he decided to head over to the picnic area. Yes, you read that correctly: the picnic area. Not the scary slides or the giant tumbler thing, but the picnic area. And as he was walking, he just randomly tripped over a tiny pebble and came crashing to the ground, but not before slamming his little, adorable forehead into one of the metal picnic table benches.
Argh.
My heart just about stopped. It happened in slow motion, as these things do, and my arm was of course 1.3 seconds to late to catch him. Boom, crash, right into hard metal and within milliseconds there was a large, red welt. I hightailed it out of the park, ready to run red lights to get home (because nothing follows up one head injury than a car crash) in my quest for ice. He screamed the whole time, and then screamed louder as I held the ice to his head for five excruciating minutes. Within twenty minutes, there was barely a bump, but I feel like the image of my child falling forward has been permanently seared into my brain.
I'm not the kind of mom (if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know this) that believes a kiss makes it all better. I'm more along the lines of an MRI and full neurological evaluation to feel comforted. Call me the Jack Shepard of Motherhood, but I want answers grounded in facts. Screw this whole intuition thing -- I spent two hours post-fall staring at Scotty, shining lights in his eyes, trying to get a grasp on his mental status while monitoring him for any loss of consciousness, vomiting, or seizures. (thank you, Dr. Awesome, for disclosing the three hallmarks of a head injury to me. I repeat them to myself over and over again.)
Today, there is barely a bump, and I know most of you are thinking, "He's going to fall again. You need to get used to it." Yes, I know that. But that's why he's going to be in his helmet. :-)
Does it come in extra large?
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