Mother Of The Year...

Awful, terrible, horrendous, heinous. Let's set the scene, shall we?
To begin this tale, I must first tell you, that in our household we use cloth diapers. It was a decision we made for a number of reasons, and we love them! The only downside, is that instead of wrapping up your little poopy present for the trash man, we need to flush the fecal matter down the toilet, which means an extra few steps to diaper changing. Why am I telling you this grossly intimate detail of our life? Wait for it, it will pay off  I promise. After weeks of the little ninja gaining more mobility, and weeks of me (not so) gently reminding the man of the house NOT to leave on her change table, NOT to sit her up on the edge of the counter, et cetera, et cetera, the unthinkable has happened. On my watch.
Of course, in spite of all my 'tut-tutting' my partners parenting, I am the one who lets her fall off the edge of the bed.
Right. On. Her. Face.

Check out that shiner!

She is in surprising good spirits for a kid with the worst mother in the universe. I had put her on our bed, as I usually do when I am getting dressed in the morning. She was sitting up, happily playing with Sean Penn (a stuffed baby seal..she loves him!). I realized that I had left her last diaper sitting in the middle of her floor with a nugget of poop in it.
Now for those of you not in Halifax at the moment, let me tell you-it is bleeding hot. The humidity is ridiculous, and the thought of that poop nugget melting was more than I could take at that moment.
I glanced at the babe, and satisfied that there was NO WAY that she could injure herself in my 30 second absence I went into the next room. I had the diaper in my hand when I heard it. The most jubilant giggle I had ever heard her make. Overcome with glee at the very sound of it, I thought: 'oh my, she must have discovered something new!' and I ran back to our room, diaper in hand.  Just as I entered the door I saw what had made her so happy. She had thrown Sean Penn on the floor and was reaching over the edge of the bed to pick him up. I threw myself in her general direction hoping just this once using the Force would work, but to no avail. Her face hit the floor with a thunk so deafening, I barely noticed the poop nugget had jumped out of the diaper and landed smack in the middle of our bed. Where my baby should have been. Remembering the old adage: 'babies are more scared of you than you are of them' (is that correct?), I tried to remain calm as I cradled her crying little body, and kissed her poor smashed forehead.. I was literally shaking, I had never been so angry/scared/upset at anything in my life thus far. Needless to say, she was fine after a cookie and some cuddles. Me, I need something a little stronger. (Mental note, try to ensure baby hurts herself after reasonable time to have booze.)
As with all things, I took this as a great opportunity to learn something.  There is, of course, the headlining lesson: babies (unlike cats) do not land on their feet. As well as lesson two: pay attention dumbass. But there is also a chance to learn an even more profound something. My child will get hurt. The path from infant to adult is fraught with perils to wound and upset. As much as I want to protect her fragile spirit, and her tiny head, the bump will go away, but the lesson we both learned will stick.  She may get hurt, but she will be okay.  As will I.  Right after I finish my bottle of wine.
Cheers:)