Lollipops

Maybe I just have ADD or something, but I get bored when I stay home all time.  Not just me, Hannah does too.  She has so many toys, but always ends up terrorising the house, then wandering around, not sure of what to do next, bored of all her toys (and there are many, that’s what happens when you live with Grandma).  So, we try to get out every day (without spending too much money…).  We go grocery shopping one day, bible study another, shopping (to spend our spending on what ever we want money), and then I have to think of other things to fill in our time on those other days.  We would go to play group, but they are all on while she has her morning nap, and we all know that you don’t wake a sleeping baby (because as I’ve said before, it’s pretty much the end of the world).

With nothing to do yesterday, we (ok, I) decided to go to Lollipops (http://www.lollipopsplayland.com.au/).  I thought that children 2 and under were free, but I was wrong, it’s only 1 and under.  Humph.  Unfortunately for me, I have a cold and my voice has decided to do a bit of a walkabout, making me sound rather like a transvestite.  Or like I’ve been smoking 8 packs of cigarettes everyday since I was 5 (ew).  Still, I enquired about the fee, rather embarrassingly, inviting an odd stare or two my way.  Of course maybe the stares were because my sleeve is caked in Hannah snot.  What can I say, sometimes you’re out and you don’t have a tissue, and you can’t just leave your poor little baby’s nose running.  It’s not like they wipe their own noses, and eventually, the snot makes its way to their mouths and then they’re just sitting there, unwillingly eating their snot.  I would love to have a sign to plaster on my shirt that reads “I don’t always sound like this, I have a cold.”  Or maybe “I’m not a transvestite, I have a cold.”   Kinda like the time that I got sun and wind burned , resulting in oozing yet crusty blisters all over my face.  I would have loved a sign then too (“No, I’m not usually this gross, it’s only a sun/wind burn”).

Hannah had the best time running around, playing on the little cars, in the play kitchen, the ball pit, jumping castle, tube thing, slides, teacup ride (FYI, you know you’re getting old when the teacup ride makes you dizzy).  She was having a wonderful day.

And then I ruined it.

We went out to the car.  I put her in her car seat, gave her a pancake (wholemeal with wheat germ, a healthy pancake) and her favorite (ok, maybe it’s my favorite) sippy cup.  She smiled at me, still oozing happiness from her play time inside.

I put her left arm in the safety strap of the car seat and buckled it.  I put her right arm in.  Stupid buckle, it wouldn’t go in.  Something was in the way.  I couldn’t see anything.  I kept pushing.

“WWWWWWAAAAAAAAA!”  My heart sank.  How could I be so stupid?  I took her out of her seat and gave her a cuddle.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry, Mommy didn’t mean to hurt you.  I love you so much!”  I held her for a while as she rested her sobbing little face on my shoulder.  I felt horrible.  I pulled up her shirt to assess the damage.  A bright red welt stared back at me, angry and hurt.  I kissed her little baby belly.

She started screaming when I put her back in the seat.  I’m sure she was afraid that the seat belt was going to bite her belly again.  Poor baby.  At least she doesn’t seem to think I did it, and I’m not going to correct her.  I’ll let her go on thinking that the mean seat bit her.  After all, I don’t want her to know that Mommy pinched her tummy in the seat belt buckle.