Tears and a fat lip.

Well, it finally happened. Fourteen months later Isabelle finally took a real spill that caused bleeding, hot tears, and a lot of crying. Oh, and it caused her mother to be besides herself with worry and concern.

Paul and Isabelle were getting ready to go to the beach to spend a few days with Linda, Clark, and the kids (lucky me - I get to stay and toil in the dungeon). I was upstairs getting ready and Paul was feeding Isabelle her breakfast. Paul had packed all of her clothes and toys and foods and diapers and the 1352 other things you need when you travel with a baby. Last to be packed was Isabelle's booster seat. It's one of those plastic ones with a tray that belts onto a regular chair.

At home, Isabelle's booster seat is tied to a bar stool - higher than a standard chair. When she eats she mostly sits still, but wiggles, and of late, tries to get her leg out from under the tray for some mysterious baby reason.

Well...Paul had, in his anal retentive way, already unbuckled the booster seat so it could be quickly packed. He did this, however, before Isabelle was put in the seat for her meal. Needless to say, when Isabelle wiggled this time she came crashing down, like a mobster into Lake Michigan wearing cement shoes.

All I heard from upstairs was a a very loud thud, followed by shrill crying. I thought maybe she just bumped into something or dropped something until I heard Paul telling her it was alright and saying "oh no." See, usually when Isabelle uses her head or some other various body part as a bettering ram and hurts herself Paul tells her she is fine. With this she usually stops crying and moves on. This time, he was responding with worry. That worried me.

I rushed down the stairs to see Paul holding my exuberant, chubby, almost always happy baby - sobbing and bleeding from her mouth. My heart raced and broke at the same time. She was trying to suck her thumb for comfort, but didn't want to put it in her mouth. So she just cried huge crocodile tears over a red, frightened face.

I took her in my arms and held her. I collected sheepy for her to hold and walked outside where it was cool and bright. I stepped in once to say something to Paul and she pointed at the booster seat and wailed. Paul scurried to pick it up and take it outside to the car. And she just kept crying. It seems like forever, but I am sure it was ten minutes or less. Then we just sat and rocked until she calmed down.

I wanted to feel her teeth to see if they were knocked loose, but she tightened her lips and wouldn't let me feel them -- this when she usually happily bares her teeth with a giant, squinting smile. I worked my finger in and found that one tooth was loose, not bad, but loose nonetheless. We called the pediatrician and spoke to a dentist who said there wasn't much we could do -- watch for an abscess and make sure the tooth doesn't turn gray.

Isabelle's lip was fat. Maybe twice its normal size. Her forehead had a large goose-egg and the right side of her nose was red from where she landed on her face. But she was alright.

About an hour after she feel I finally left for work. Worried for my baby, but knowing that she would in reality be fine.

After she took a nap Paul took her to the beach anyhow, which is where she is now. He reports her fat lip is receding and she is having a good time with Zach and Molly. What a little trooper.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the memory of seeing her scared and bleeding will stay with me much longer than it will stay with her. I wonder if it will change her daredevil ways of rolling off her changing table and shimmying over the sides of the furniture? I hope not. I love that side of her.