Obviously, it Could Have Been Worse
And I'm aware of that. But I was still shell shocked for a good 72 hours after Mali's crappy stroller hit a bump in the sidewalk and catapulted her--still strapped into her infant car seat--face down onto the concrete sidewalk one block from Iz's school.
Mali was mostly protected by her car seat's various struts and shades. She got a big bump on her head and cried a river, but the wailing wasn't excessive and she had no other immediately visible injuries.
I went into immediate shock, and completely forgot about unstrollered Leelo standing next to both me and the street. Thankfully the hubbub kept his attention until I re-registered his presence. Thankfully nearby parents kindly picked up my wallet and keys from the ground, and placed them under the stroller. I wouldn't have noticed they were missing.
Somehow I made my way to Iz's classroom while holding Mali with one arm, Leelo with the other hand, and still pushing that fucking stroller. I was able to smile and nod while Iz's teacher told me about my daughter's latest impertinent romp. Upon request the office ladies gave me an ice pack.
After about ten minutes, I remembered to call Mali's pediatrician. She asked me to bring the baby in immediately.
I got the standard head injury talk (watch her for 48 hours, wake her up to alertness every few hours, check her pupils, bring her back if she barfs more than thrice). Dr. M is a parent herself and probably deals with idiots like me daily, and so was very kind. Mali shortened the limb injury portion of the examination by doing her quadrupod thing and sticking her bottom in the good doctor's face.
My mind stayed in outer space for the remainder of the afternoon, and well into the evening. Thankfully my parents returned from Napa around 3:00, and were able to help watch the kids. I snapped out of it when Seymour showed up, though--instant hysterical crying.
I have no one to blame but myself. I have been too tired and flitty, I have been trying to do too much, and now my attention span has gone away. I should have seen that sidewalk bump. I should have clicked the car seat down into the stroller (although I partially--not in a litigious way--blame the losers at Prig Prigego for making the most cumbersome and inconvenient stroller safety measures ever encountered). I should have driven to the curb and picked Iz up there.
Thankfully, Mali is fine. Undeservedly and finally, I am now also fine. It is time to scale back on our too-busy schedule, and focus on what my fucking job is all about: the kids and their well being.
It may also be time to get a different fucking stroller. My mom and my sister-in-law, the generous stroller donators, will certainly understand.