Every so often there's an eventful story from a day at home
with Ellie that I don't tell Bethany about right away. I just wait on it for a bit and toss it up on
a blog post. Believe me, it's worth it
to hear her reaction once she finally reads it.
It's generally along the lines of "You didn't tell me that
happened" or "I absolutely cannot believe that occurred". If it makes things seem a little better, I do
at least warn her when one of those stories is coming around the bend. That way, she's not totally shocked whenever
she reads it. Although, that thought
process normally just gets me something along the lines of "Can't you just
tell me now?". Yes, I could. Will I?
No. No, I will not.
If you've been reading #DaddyWrite for any length of time
(or you're even remotely familiar with me as a human being), then you know that
I possess a natural clumsiness that is second-to-none. Maybe clumsiness isn't the appropriate term
here. It's more of an inability to
proceed with caution, even when the situation might merit it, that leads me
into potential ruin. Seriously, I find myself
bounding down stairs at ridiculous rates of speed. It's like I believe the 'Lucky Charms' leprechaun
is waiting at the base of the staircase with a pot of gold with my name on
it. And if I don't make it down there a
whole four and half seconds sooner than I would at a normal rate of speed, then
he's going to take it away and give it to Tom Selleck for mustache styling gel or
something.
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| They're magically delicious... |
The lone exception to this rule happens to be when I'm
carrying Ellie. Believe me, I know that
I'm carrying precious cargo when she's in my arms and legitimately don't want
anything bad to happen to her. I'm going
to take them one step at a time. I'll
even use the handrail to provide extra stabilization. I'm proud to admit that I actually haven't
had an issue with her in my arms over the past seven months of her life. Which is more than you can say for our
previous laptop (Oh, HP laptop with remote control. Why did this world take you so young?).
On Friday, Ellie was in a fantastic mood so I decided to try
and take a few pictures of her to celebrate her seven-month anniversary of
being alive (don't feel like I can say 'birthday' if it's not actually her
birthday). I picked Ellie up in my right
arm and proceed through our kitchen to the stairwell. As my foot hits the second step, I feel my
heel sliding forward and losing precious traction on the carpet. At this point, I know all hope is lost; I'm going
down. I begin to rapidly evaluate the
situation and realize that Ellie and I are destined to fall forward instead of
backwards though. Thus, the situation
becomes desperate. I thrust my left arm
out to grab the handrail just as we begin to fall. It works but now I find myself twisting
violently in the air with only my firm grasp on the rail saving us from certain
peril. I seriously felt like Tom Cruise
hanging off a mountain in 'Mission: Impossible 2' for a brief moment.
With Ellie in my right arm, I'm kind of in a rough
situation. My left arm is the only thing
stopping us from falling down the staircase the rest of the way, but I have no
way to get myself up. Finally, I begin
to roll myself onto my stomach in an attempt to use my knees to push myself up,
all while continuing to hold Ellie.
Finally after what seemed like hours (probably only 45 seconds), I maneuvered
myself to my stomach and pushed myself up with my knees. Of course, in doing so, I also pushed Ellie's
head straight into the handrail. Poor
baby. She hadn't actually cried during
the ordeal and now found herself driven to tears in the closing moments.
There is one good thing about this situation that I realized
though. People have always said that
when you have a child, you'd literally die for them. Well, I hadn't really felt that way. Probably because I hadn't been in a situation
where it had necessitated it. Now, I
still don't know about the dying part, but I would definitely throw myself down
a flight of stairs for Ellie any day of the week. That much is for certain. After all, can't be worse than the time I
bruised a rib on that same staircase, right?
#DaddyWrite
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| So you can hire just the mustache? |
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