Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn’t see that one coming.
August 18, 2010

A couple months ago, Charlotte suddenly developed depth perception and this entire family breathed an enormous sigh of relief.  For weeks, she had been crawling off the bed, head-butting the coffee table, sitting up on the edge of the couch, and nose-diving off her changing table.  And I had added “can effectively act as bubble wrap” to my impressive list of motherly accomplishments.

Oh?  What’s that you say?  My list is not that impressive?  You need an example?  One time, Charlotte crawled off the bed.  Our bed is effectively a mattress on the ground, so it’s a very short fall, but I managed to race fifteen feet across the room, slide on my knees, and catch her mid-fall, with her feet in the air and her head an inch from the ground.  It was a move right out of the superhero master handbook, I tell you.  And it was pretty damned impressive, if you ask me.

Of course, I also wound up with nearly a dozen splinters in one knee.  But that’s beside the point.  I’m sure Clark Kent had a few black eyes here and there, but you never caught wind of THAT little dirty secret, did you?

Anyway, one day Charlotte sat herself on the edge of the bed.  I was standing right there, with my once-besplintered knee against her back while I folded (and she unfolded) laundry, and in the blink of an eye, she catapulted herself backwards.  And landed flat on her back with a thud, the sort of thud that any mother will describe as sickening.

That’s right.  I could catch my kid after a fifteen foot dash, but not when I was standing with my knee in her back.

Fret not: Charlotte was just fine.  We had placed a foam mat all around the bed after her recent attempts to give me a heart attack in the hopes that if her noggin did hit the ground, her brain would not start oozing out of her ears.  She gave a startled yelp and spent the next two or three minutes nestling me for comfort, but she never even cried.  And her brain stayed exactly where it had been, THANK GOODNESS.

And the next day, she figured out depth perception.  We taught her how to crawl to the edge of something, look down (at this point, she always went “ooh” and looked puzzled), then turn her body around and slide off backwards so that her feet hit the floor first.  When she first began doing this, every time her toes touched the ground, she flashed us an enormous victory grin.

This morning, I realized that now it’s just another one of those things she does.  Like signing for more at the dinner table or catapulting her body across a patch of grass to give me kisses.  I watched her wriggle her way off the bed without even looking at me, looking only at the book on the floor that she wanted to grab, and I thought, you know what?  This whole motherhood thing?  Where you witness the blossoming of the most beautiful soul you have ever beheld?


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  1. By Megan R. on August 18, 2010

    I can’t wait for that to happen for Finn.  You are lucky!  Finnley still thinks going head first off of the couch is ok.  And, now she wants to WALK down the stairs.  She usually waits for help, but sometimes we catch her mid-first step.  SERIOUSLY?  Heart attack waiting to happen.  I look forward to her sliding off of the couch feet first, and down the stairs backward on her belly…or even down on her butt.  AHHH…THAT WILL BE LOVELY!

  2. By Jess on August 18, 2010

    Thank god! I have to admit though, I can’t wait to have a baby crawling all over my house. Of course, in a year… I’ll probably be denying I ever said this.
    I just found your blog. Love it already!





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