This past weekend was no different than most. I did the laundry, dishes, and gave the dog a bath. I put together something from IKEA that should have taken half the amount of time it would have if the instructions had words to go along with the pictures. Nothing incredible, but the every day can be beautiful.
Wesley was fussy and needed changing at around 6:30 a.m. on Sunday. He was wide awake after being changed so I knew I was going to be up for the day. I let Abigail sleep because she was up more during the night than I was. She feeds. I change diapers. My part of that gig goes much more quickly so it stands to reason that I’m more rested. Theoretically at least.
I spent the better part of the next hour and a half talking with (or to) my son. He’d smile at me. Some times he’d sneeze or coo. After a while a freshly brewed cup coffee sounded good to me so at around 8:00 a.m. I went into the kitchen and started getting things going. I filled up the coffee maker with filter water, got out a fresh coffee filter and the coffee beans our friends had gotten us while on vacation in Honduras. I then got the coffee grinder out, filled it with coffee beans and turned it on.
Wesley screamed in terror. He was in my left arm and a few feet away from the grinder on the counter. I had started it with my right hand. The look of horror on a newborn’s face is at the same time heart breaking and funny (don’t judge.) He was obviously not harmed in any way, but the sound seriously freaked him out. He was freaked out enough that he woke Abigail up and didn’t stop crying/calm down for several minutes. The rest of the day he was not himself, but a very grumpy and weepy version of himself.
“You broke our baby.” She repeatedly accused me the rest of that day in a mostly-joking-but-still-kinda-serious way. “I didn’t break him. I just freaked him out.” I would reply.
Luckly I didn’t “break” his psyche. He’s been his normal happy self the last few days with some crying here and there when he’s hungry or needs changing. It’s Thursday morning and I’ve not made coffee at home again yet. Hopefully I’ll be able to make some soon (not while holding him) and all be fine.
Wesley, I am sincerely sorry for scaring you so thoroughly. Please don’t hold it against me in the future if the sound of fresh coffee being made gives you some sort of uneasy feeling well into your 30s. Daddy loves you, but he’s not perfect.
My husband informed me about a year ago that he one night while chaining our son’s diaper, my little angel rolled off the changing table and fell into the laundry basket. Praise god it was full of clothes. He says my son was equal parts shocked and elated. See? Coffee grinders are peanuts compared to falling 3 feet into a basket of probably stinky clothes, right?
Did I mention my son is now 9.5 and I JUST heard about this story a year ago?
Vicky
These kind of things can be really heart-wrenching, and every time they happen we keep on vowing that we’ll never do, or allow to be done, something like that again…but somehow they keep happening! The thought of that makes me shiver, but I guess we just need to take one day at a time and do as best we can.
As you so rightfully said, we might not be perfect, but we love our children and we can’t do more than that!