"I would do anything to keep you safe but you keep trying to kill yourself" AKA I'm the mom of a toddler boy

At around 10 this morning, soft little sleepy grunts started coming over the baby monitor.  I shut my computer, got up off the couch, and walked upstairs.  As I made my way down the hall I tapped along the wall saying "Aaaasher" (this is our little 'waking up from naps' routine so he knows I'm coming).  When I opened the door to his bedroom he was sitting up in his crib, goofy grin on his face, eyes still sleepy from his two hour long rest.  I knelt down next to his crib, looked through the slats right into those big beautiful blue eyes, and said, softly, kindly, "I would do anything to keep you safe but you keep trying to kill yourself".

For the last two hours, I had been peeking in his bedroom every 20 minutes to make sure he was okay because at 8 this morning, Asher opened the drawers to a dresser, climbed halfway up, and then pulled the whole thing over on top of himself.  I was sitting about 4 feet away, and couldn't stop it from happening.  I quickly (and when I say quickly, I mean like I don't even really remember what happened) pulled the dresser and its drawers off my little boy and swept aside all the crap that had spilled out of the drawers around him.  As I held him while he sobbed I thought "Crying is good, crying is better than no noise" and started blindly squeezing body parts to see if anything set him off more.  He stopped crying pretty fast and was ready for his nap almost immediately.

Temporarily relieved, I put him down and went downstairs, thinking about how lucky we had just gotten.  But Ben and I have been watching a lot of ER lately and all I could think was One of those drawers probably jabbed him in his abdomen and ruptured his spleen and is causing internal bleeding, so I called our pediatrician and made an appointment.

Asher has become a toddler.  Which means all at the same time, everything has become scary, terrifying, and dangerous.  In the last week he has tipped over backwards off a kids picnic table, catapulted himself into the bathtub as it was filling up with water, launched himself head first into a wall while trying to kick a ball, learned how to climb up everything, and today, the cherry on top, pulled a big heavy piece of furniture onto his tiny 23 pound body.  He has an agenda.  And I'm pretty sure it's to see how fast his mommy can move.  "La dee da dee da, look at me mom, just trying to climb over the baby gate you've put on the third stair.... just seeing how far I can hang off the couch before I go crashing to the ground.... just wondering how many pebbles I can stuff in my mouth before you sprint over to me....just wondering if falling in the kiddie pool will get your attention...".  Yes.  This is his new game.  And yes.  I can move quite fast, I'm learning.

But not fast enough to avoid all of Asher's accidents.  While we have many 'near misses' we also have a lot of 'I sunk your battleships'...like this morning...with the dresser.  Remember a while back when I said having a kid has made me less judgy.  Let's revisit that.  When I would read about kids getting hurt in the news, the first question that always pops into my head used to be, "Where was their mom!?!".  RIGHT FREAKING NEXT TO THEM.  Not in the next room.  Not taking a nap.  Not passed out on the couch.  Oh judgy pre-toddler Blair, guess what, chances are the moms were RIGHT THERE.  Because as you are learning, even being directly next to a 14 month old doesn't mean they won't get hurt.  They find a way.  They seek out danger.  They are professional 'I wonder if this will leave a mark' crazy people sent here to ruin your peaceful mornings.

The good news is Asher is fine.  Our delightfully patient, understanding pediatrician spent about 30 seconds with him before telling me he was going to be okay.  And he went on to say that as the father of three triplet boys, he can tell me the fun is just beginning.  Apparently little boys are thrill-seeking monsters... who knew.  ...oh wait, I just posted a picture of my husband from his youth with a cast on each arm...I suppose I should have seen this coming.

If anyone needs me, I'll be popping Klonopin like they're skittles and walking around with a first aid kit in my back pocket until Asher is 18 years old.