If I was a Helicopter Mama on Wednesday (I do hover…sometimes), I became an Ambulance Mama on Thursday afternoon around 2:45pm when Riley’s face hit the pavement. Now, every move he makes sets off sirens in my head.
Going down a slide. (Climbing up the ladder before going down the slide!) Getting in and out of the bath. Roughhousing with Dylan (or Daddy). Climbing in and out of bed. Running. Walking. Talking. Eating. Sleeping.
We went to an indoor play space this morning, and within a few minutes of arriving I had to stop watching him. Everything he did, from playing with trucks to riding a tricycle, put me in a state of panic. I kept saying, “Riley, be careful.” After a while, I couldn’t stand the sound of my own voice. It reminded me of when Dylan was newly potty trained and I asked him a thousand times a day, “Do you have to pee?” Even I wanted to tell myself to shut up.
Accidents happen, I know. And when I think about how many frightening falls Riley has had (a few nose dives from Dylan’s bunk bed come to mind), it’s amazing that his “face plant” in the cement on Thursday afternoon was the first accident that sent us racing to the doctor.
I’ve been called a nervous Nellie all my life, and motherhood hasn’t helped break the cycle one bit. Now, it appears I’m breaking new ground. At any moment, there could be screaming, crying, blood, fear, panic and that awful adrenaline that forces me into fight or flight mode and, in the end, leaves me depleted of all physical, emotional and intellectual energy for days.
Thankfully, Riley is starting to feel better. He even bit straight into a grilled cheese sandwich at lunch today, which, of course, terrified me. I hope as his wounds heal, the volume of the sirens going off in my head will diminish, but for now, this nervous Nellie is living in a state of emergency.
Is anyone else out there an Ambulance Mama?
p.s. To everyone in Irene’s path, stay safe!
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The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 