The first bonk was more a case of circumstantial evidence. I arrived at Daycare to get the boys the day before they were doing their little show, and Rhonda was running around trying to get the house ready. However, her teen daughter, fiance and sister were all there, too. I walked in, looked around and asked Holden where Riley was, and he led me to a back bedroom.
The door was closed. When I opened it, there was Riley, sitting on the floor. He wasn't crying, but seemed a bit panicked. I didn't really look around the room, but did notice out of the corner of my eye a bed in a wooden frame and a hairdryer plugged in and lying on the floor. I scooped up Riley and went looking for Rhonda, wondering why a 10-month-old was alone in a room with the door closed.
I found her coming in from outside. When I asked, she said one of the kids must have closed the door while they were playing. While I was trying to process how all these people leta baby crawl down the hall on his own anyway, she went on to say that he was napping and she was working right outside the window listening for him - and had checked on him half an hour before and he was still sound asleep.
My reaction, I'm sure you can guess, was to say: "Asleep? On the bed?! I found him on the floor!" I gave her a pretty good berating, asking why not just put him in the pack 'n play if he needed to take a nap somewhere quiet. She apologized, and tearfully admitted her mistake.
I left not knowing what to do: Look around for new daycare that may not be any safer, plus all the positives we had there with the way they genuinely seem to love the boys (most the time, anyway), and teach them so much. It was a quandry, but we decided to send the boys again.
So just as I was grappling with feeling like a Bad Mom for sending my kids back there, I really got a taste of self-inflicted Bad Momness.
Riley, who is busy and strong, has been difficult to change because he won't lie still on his back on the changing table. The other night, as I reached for a wipe, I had one hand on his squirmy body and he launched himself up and over/through my hand. He dove head first to the floor 4 feet below as I unsuccessfully tried to grab his leg. He bonked, I screamed and we both began to cry as I scooped him up and held him.
Kevin came running in and put all his survival training to work. He got busy checking Riley's eyes and ears and asking questions which I knew I needed to calmly answer, but couldn't get it together. Within 10 minutes, Riley was calm - crawling and cruising around, laughing and playing like nothing happened.
But the doctor said these little guys can't tell you when they have headaches, and advised he get a CT Scan. I bundled him up and off we went to Cedars-Sinai. The nurse and doctor were reassuring, but they suggested a scan, too. I tried to nurse him to sleep, but he was too interested in all that was going on. I gave him a bottle and fought my tears to sing Circle Game as the machine whirred around his head, which was taped down to the table that moved up and down and in and out. The scan showed he was "perfect," and we headed home after 3 hours.
As they get bigger and more active, I know more injuries will be par for the course. Luckily, Riley's proved to be strong and resilient, qualities he will need in what is turning out to be a rough world.
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