as good as a kick in the pants

Yesterday was Sprout's 6-month birthday. Want to know what he got for a present?

He got mauled by a kid in the doctor's waiting room.

We were waiting to see the doc because Sprout has an ear infection (no anti-antibiotic rants, please--we're going to meet his maternal grandparents for Labor Day weekend, and I don't want him flying with bulging eardrums). I had him on my lap, facing out into the waiting room. He wasn't making a peep, wasn't doing a thing but looking. There's one other family in the room, a dad and toddler-age son (heretoafter known as "Demon Child").

Demon Child comes over and stands in front of Sprout, looking at him. Then, no warning and lightning fast, he reaches out, grabs Sprout's cheeks, and digs his fingernails talons into my beautiful helpless baby's face. I realize too late what he's doing--my first instinct is to pull Sprout away but know the damage would be even worse. I have to get the kid to let go. His father--obviously as dumbstruck as I am--stands there, paralyzed. I blurt something and shove the kid away. Sprout begins to scream sounds I cannot describe and is beginning to drip blood. Nurses arrive to escort us to our respective appointments, sense the frission in the room, and separate us. The nurse for my doctor leads me out of the waiting room, and as soon as I'm through the door, I say, that kid attacked my baby. Get me the doctor right now. And I want to make an incident report. Right now.

I think she takes offense at the right now's. Her words to me when we get into the exam room (work hard to imagine the appropriately snide tone): "What are you going to do when he goes to school, Mom?"

Fast forward: an hour later, Sprout is sleeping comfortably at home, his wounds coated with antibiotic ointment. He's going to be just fine, hopefully no scars. His naive mother has learned a lesson: never again will a strange child come that close to my baby, and I will greet any who approach with "Don't touch the baby." I registered a complaint against the nurse, advised the medical director that they train their staff to deal with such emergencies better, and heard that the father was advised to be more watchful of his child around others. It's a poor set of actions when, bottom line, if I'd just been less trusting, it would never have happened.

And here's why I love Sprout's daddy: he gathered Sprout into his arms, said, "Little guy, there are mean people in the world, and something bad happened to you today. We'll do our best, but we can't always protect you out there. But you're home now with mommy and daddy, and you're safe, and we'll make sure this is a safe place for you."

sprout likes rice cereal

We started the rice cereal a couple of weeks ago. He took to it like a house-afire:


One of our friends had a baby on Thursday--the induction that worked! When we went to see her that night, in the same hospital where I gave birth, it brought it all back. On our way out, we saw our doula, who was giving a birth center tour. Despite all the chaos of getting him here, I'm grateful for every part of that experience.

It's wonderful to love my life so much. My new job is a huge challenge, but every day flies by, I'm so excited to be doing the work and having fun. Sprout seems to love daycare, settling into a schedule of naps and bottles and playing. He plays hard, smiles and chortles a lot, and sleeps well every night. DH is wonderful and funny and makes a helluva halibut taco (Sunday dinner, yum!). I don't get luxurious sleep or endless knitting hours anymore, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.