The Other Baby Drops

A week ago, Mixon had never fallen off of anything.

Sure, there was the time I hit him in the back of the head with my iPad, the time I dropped a remote on him, and the time I cut him with nail clippers, but we had yet to hear that thud that turns your stomach into a dirty garbage can full of old potatoes and banana peels.

There is a thing that happens with babies, and I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but they get older. The new sounds, expressions, laughs – they’re all great, but there will also be movement.

Mixon is now a champion roller who prefers to sleep on his stomach, thank you very much. He is also seconds away from crawling.

So exciting, right? Sure, but also terrifying. I quickly ordered a play yard that has a small likelihood of actually fitting in my living room and some other safety stuff, but there’s more to do.

That became abundantly clear one day when I was at ‘Milk Club’ at Vanderbilt (a lactation support group that’s really just an excuse to get cute babies together and play). We all put our babies up on the table and talk about naps and poop and boobs.

We talked about falling babies that day, that’s the thing.

Mixon flirted with some lady babies and had some fun and then it was time to go home. I had brought enough toys and gear for 5 babies, which is my norm. I started packing it all up and took my hand off of him for ONE SECOND. I looked back at the table and there was no Mixon.


I looked around frantically for five seconds [years] and then I heard it – the shriek of (in my mind) betrayal. It’s a special what-the-fuck-is-happening scream that echoes in your ears for days. He was on the ground under a chair lying on his face. At least we were at a hospital.

After about a minute, he had calmed down, but I was still shaky. I made that hospital joke, kept calling myself a bad mommy, and held him and held him and held him.

Well, at least I had done it. We all now knew that Mixon was a mover and a shaker. Gone were the days of letting him lie.

Nope. As much as I wish I could have done the lesson learning for everyone, some of us have to do it ourselves. A person who shall remain nameless put Mixon on the couch that same day. It’s fun to prop him up, because he looks like this:


As the lesson-learner, I cautioned him/her that this was probably not a good idea anymore, since he no longer stays there like a potato (if he takes after his parents, we’ll have ‘potato: part 2’ in his teenage years).

I stayed there watching the boy until said person came back into the room and rolled his/her eyes.

Yesterday, though. It happened. A couch-sit, a thud, a brain-shattering scream. He landed on his back this time, so at least he’s evening out. So now both this person and I have been there.

We’re  lucky – no injuries yet. And maybe we have now done all of the learning. No more tears ever, right?

In other news, we started Mixon on solids. We’re doing mainly baby-led weaning. This was broccoli, which he WILL NOT TOUCH until I bite the tree/flower things off.

IMG_2090See? HE’S FINE. I swear.