Monday, July 2, 2012

Just another summer day, heart attack included.

Summertime in New Orleans -- like walking face first into a hot, wet towel. Sounds appealing right? Right. In an effort to avoid said towel, we moseyed on over to the aquarium this past weekend (it's too hot to do anything more strenuous than moseying). The aquarium here is pretty sweet. Not as good as the one in Atlanta, but I think that one is like the biggest in the world or something. Stiff competition. 

I don't think it mattered to Rowan though, he was on Cloud 9 the ENTIRE time we were there. 

I realized when we got home that pretty much all of my pictures were of the back of his head, but I seriously couldn't get him to turn around long enough to look at me. He LOVED the fish. I think we found a new favorite thing.

Speaking of new things, allow me to share with you the newest trick my son has learned. Before we begin this story, you should know that he is safely in his crib taking a nap right now. I always have to start my stories like that when I talk to my mom, otherwise she assumes he's in the hospital, or sick or stuck up a tree or something. Go figure. 

Anywho, we busted out the kiddie pool today. Super fun, Rowan loves it. Eventually though, pool time was over, time for us to go in. Time for me to take my kids inside. Two kids. One me. Neither of them are very good at walking....especially Emma. Here is where my dilemma began.

Time out. In the middle of the aquarium, Rowan literally stopped dead in his tracks and gazed longingly at this Haagen Dazs poster for a full 30 seconds, no prompting. Thirty seconds is a long time to do anything for my son. Unless, apparently, it involves ice cream. He is his father's child.

Also, we had some difficulty keeping him out of the fish tanks.

Back to my dilemma by the pool. Two kids. One me. "Well," I think, "Rowan seems to be entertaining himself pretty well. I can probably get Emma in, set her down and come back out to get him." Now for all of you moms who are getting all judgey and concerned that I left my son unattended by the pool, cool your jets, I had my eye on him. However, my next move was not one of my prouder moments. 

Isn't this picture so cute?? 

I just love them. :) 

Anyway, I put Emma down inside the door, looked back over my shoulder, saw that Rowan was still occupied and decided it would be the perfect time to jet down the hall and start his bath. It's a long(er) story but he was covered in charcoal mud that was not welcome in my bedroom. The faster I could get him to the tub, the better.

So I literally ran down the hall, turned the water on, poured a little bubble bath and was on my way to the door. Now is a good time to get judgey and concerned, because it was at this point that I realized my 15-month-old was coming in the back door. In the time it had taken me to walk 10 feet to the bathroom and start a bath, Rowan had left the backyard, climbed up the wooden steps to our back porch and was now teetering dangerously on the threshold of the back door.

You know that moment in movies, right before someone gets attacked by a wild animal? It's the stare down moment when the soon-to-be attackee is trying to remember if they're supposed to play dead, or charge, or run away, or what. That's what this was like. Both of us staring at each other. Me realizing that if I made any sudden movements, Rowan would probably take off running toward the stairs. And he did. I ran, screaming his name all the way to the door and caught him just as he was taking his first step off the porch. I'm not sure it needs to be said, but in case it does, this particular 15-month-old does not do stairs by himself. Period.

I dragged him into our room, crying all the way because he wasn't ready to come in (he was crying, not me, just in case you were confused). I then realized I left Emma's baby seat outside. (ps..isn't that shark coming at me and Emma super scary looking??) Rowan seemed to be entertaining himself, curled up in a ball, pouting on the floor, so I decided it would be the best time to go get the seat. Looking back on it now, it really seems like I made the same mistake twice within 5 minutes -- assuming that Rowan would stay where I left him. At the time, it did not seem that clear. 

Out to get the seat, back into my bedroom. No Rowan. Great. I remembered then that I left the bath running. Figuring he probably heard it and decided to check it out, I hustled down the hallway. I walked into the bathroom, and there was my son, sitting in the bathtub, attempting to wash his hair. I still have no idea how he got in there as he's never climbed into the tub by himself before, but he was there none the less, and washing himself to boot.

Aside from me having a new respect for Rowan's abilities, I realize that there were at least 5 ways he could have killed himself in this story alone. Thank you Jesus for the hedge of angels that you put around our children daily. Also, thank you for protecting our children from our sometimes ridiculous parenting skills. I love you!

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