My baby boy almost broke his HEAD this week!!
For about the past year (since we moved into this house) I have been taking baths with The Boy or at least sitting in the bathroom with him and playing. Maybe two weeks ago, I started wandering off just a little to do laundry or look at email or whatever needed to be done at the time. He’s 31/2 and not overly adventurous (although he’s getting more and more curious by the day) so I figured less than five minutes away every now and then couldn’t hurt
Well, I was wrong!!!
I think it was Sunday night…I don’t know, doesn’t matter…and I put him in a bubbly bath and wandered into the bedroom to watch a little football with Hubby. I don’t think I was in there for long, but here comes The Boy pitter pattering down the hall, covered in bubbles!!
**We have all ceramic tile floors except the bedrooms in our house**
I was terrified!! I told The Boy that he should never get out of the tub without Mommy…and we headed back to the bathroom **holding hands** to get the bubbles off. We made it all the way to the tub and I let go. He took one step and BAM!!
**He came off the ground and landed flat on his back, but his HEAD hit FIRST!!**
I screamed, Hubby yelled, The Boy looked at me shocked, and then started screaming. You know the kind of screaming where they lose their breath for a second and you have to blow in their mouth or try to calm them…?!! Hubby came flying around the corner and when he saw/heard what happened he yelled “we’re going to the ER!!”. I told him that we needed to wait just a few minutes to see if he was going to be okay and if anything changed, we would go. About 5 minutes of me holding and rocking, The Boy crying and touching his head, and we started to calm down. I asked him if his head hurt and he gave a little nod, crying slowing, and I told him I thought he broke my floor…
He started giggling and the moment was over!!!
When Hubby came back in the house (from cooling off a little) we were laughing and The Boy told him about breaking the floor…and life was all good again! No bumps, no bruises, no loss of consciousness, no lethargic boy…
Should I have done something different??!!!
Last week I finished My family’s story…and I promised you that Hubby was going to write either (a) his “defense”…haha!! or (b) his testimony… When I read this, I was speechless!! I actually didn’t know a lot of this about Hubby.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!!
I am the Hubby of Girl Gone Crazy, and am writing my version of our story for you! Well, actually, today I will be giving you a back story that leads up to our story. (to be told next week if the wife let’s me.
So, to begin I was born inDetroit,Michiganand adopted by two loving parents at birth. My, parents thought they could not have children. However, two and six years later I became a big brother to my sister and little brother. My childhood was probably a little above average. We grew up in a suburb just outside of the city, where my dad coached my little league baseball teams and my mom sat in the stands cringing at every one of my football games. Every winter we went to Walt Disney for a vacation for two weeks. I never was in a position to want anything, because it always seemed it was just given to me before I could even ask for it. (I know, spoiled rich kid, right)
Then at age twelve my parents in their ultimate wisdom decided to move us further from the city and my friends because the inner city was stretching to our little quiet neighborhood. I did not want to go anywhere. But, being twelve I had no vote. So, we moved and I began adjusting to life in a new place. This was not easy. All the kids just wanted to fight me, so me being me, I obliged. This went on until I was fourteen. Then I started high school, and was excited to join the football team. I started early in June with spring conditioning, and found myself making lots of friends at this point. Even the seniors were taking a shine to me.
So, in the fall, I began high school, yet somehow was still a sort of outcast. It felt like I was the kind of guy on the outside of the door begging to come in to the cool side. For two years, things went on like this, but steadily friendships were developing through the football team, so I was content. Then the summer of my junior year I got up the courage to go to a party, and found a new friend, BEER!!! Beer allowed me to do and say the things I always wanted to, but was afraid I would be shunned even more. However, it had the opposite effect, people started to notice me! As football season approached I was starting my first season on the Varsity Squad, I was a little nervous, but on the first day I knocked a guy flat on his ass! This same guy decided that day to give me a nickname that stuck forever. This was the day “The House” was born. Now, I had a persona to live up to and that was a big challenge, but to skim thru I spent the last part of high school playing football, drinking, partying, causing minor destruction (mailbox baseball, etc.), yet still graduated with a very nice GPA.
The following year I had been recruited to play football at a University, so of course I went. The first day there one of the coaches called me House, and I knew I would fit in here just fine. So to end this suffering part of my life, I drank my way out of college in just one year. I returned home with my tail between my legs, but still with a plan. I was going to be a chef! So I got a job working at a five star hotel, and steadily began moving up the ladder there. It was here, I moved back into the city and my downward spiral grew bigger. I started drinking every night, was dating a 32 year old married woman with two kids (I was 19), got a roommate who introduced me to a life of drugs! Quickly, I learned that I enjoyed drugs very much! But, it got to a point where I could not afford my own habits and lifestyle, so I began dealing drugs to supplement my income. As time went on, I became pretty good at it, while still maintaining my growing reputation as a chef, leading sort of a double life if you will. Well, at age twenty four I had congestive heart failure (of direct result of my lifestyle). While lying in bed at the hospital, I decided I was not going to live past thirty, so no sense in stopping anytime soon. I moved toAustinto live with my parents while I recovered from my heart failure, but after six months it was time to go back to cooking. And, I must say I was pretty good at it, been on Food Network, won some awards, and climbed pretty high in the ranks. But, I still went back to selling drugs and using as soon as I was able to meet the right people inAustin. This went on smoothly for three years, and then I got the urge to move back toDetroitat age twenty seven. So, called a friend she had a job lined up for me at a very nice restaurant, packed up and headed back home. Anyway, for three more years I carried on like this until I had reached my thirtieth birthday, I party hard that night, still thinking this was it for me. Well, it was not, I woke up the next morning in shock to still be alive, and decided at that moment to give it all up. So, I moved back toAustin, and spent the next three years working and trying to find myself.
Well, there you go, the back story, sorry if it is boring, but I felt it to be necessary, so you can understand the next part of my story where a woman, her family, my child and a quiet city changed my life forever. See you next Wednesday!
Have you ever come across a time in your life when you just didn’t think that things were going to get any better, you’ve reached the point where you think you are going to put your foot down and that’s the final word, only to have your life changed in a way that you never dreamed? Is there one thing, person, place, or event that you can give some credit to for that change?
I am joining Shell at Things I Can’t Say for