Breathe...Where is Your Father's Saw?
So I was two minutes away from calling 911 or getting a saw...
In general I am hyperbolic, but not in this situation. This was real. This was really shitty.
It was dinner time (the bane of my existence), yet strangely things were going really well. Lucy was coloring quietly (gotta love girls). John went into the family room to poop. He does this thing where he likes to have privacy (full-blown potty training should be a blast). So in between the vegetable stir-fry I kept checking on him. I heard the immediate "no" as in get away mom, I am busy. Cool dude, because so am I .
He got to playing with this wooden rocking chair we have. Instead of sitting in it the regular way (too easy) he flipped it over. When I checked on him again ("nooooo") he was using it as a way of shielding himself from the girls and as a bar to push and grunt from (gotta love boys).
And then a minute later...
I heard cries. I scooted the 10 feet that separated us (I measured it just now...10 freaking feet) and saw that John had managed to get his body squished under the bar in the chair. At first it didn't look that bad, but then it quickly got really bad. I tried to squeeze him through the way he came, but it wasn't working. He was fidgeting, freaking and I could not get his head to the side and still. In short, his head wasn't going through that bar. So I tried the other way. Let's squeeze your belly and poop-filled diaper through this bar. No go. Full on D.J. Tanner Full House stuck in the banister moment.
At this point Lucy was hovering. I could tell she was starting to feed off our energy. Tears were
pooling in her eyes. "Lucy get his blankie, help mommy." Good girl.
Nothing was working and the calm demeanor I had kept thus far was starting to fade. I couldn't leave John because every time I tried another position he tried to stand up with the rocking chair on his head. (Flashes of a broken spine, neck or concussion flooded my brain). He was bright red and screaming. I was close to asking Lucy to get me a screw driver, saw or crow bar until I realized I didn't even know what I'd do with them.
So, let's call 911. I need help. I've never gotten to this point, but I was there. Where is my phone? Lucy could do that.
Before I pulled the trigger I figured I'd give it one more try. I wriggled, squeezed and sang a little song for my boy. We got it. Well, more specifically I got him out without calling for back up. I also got a sleeve full of poop.
I also got a burnt dinner. But who cares?
I hugged him the whole day and night. It was a close call. I am sure there will be more. For now I'll just be grateful that I didn't have to misuse tools near my son's head, I didn't have Jerry come home to an ambulance in the driveway and that my boy went right back to wreaking havoc like usual.
It was dinner time (the bane of my existence), yet strangely things were going really well. Lucy was coloring quietly (gotta love girls). John went into the family room to poop. He does this thing where he likes to have privacy (full-blown potty training should be a blast). So in between the vegetable stir-fry I kept checking on him. I heard the immediate "no" as in get away mom, I am busy. Cool dude, because so am I .
He got to playing with this wooden rocking chair we have. Instead of sitting in it the regular way (too easy) he flipped it over. When I checked on him again ("nooooo") he was using it as a way of shielding himself from the girls and as a bar to push and grunt from (gotta love boys). And then a minute later...
I heard cries. I scooted the 10 feet that separated us (I measured it just now...10 freaking feet) and saw that John had managed to get his body squished under the bar in the chair. At first it didn't look that bad, but then it quickly got really bad. I tried to squeeze him through the way he came, but it wasn't working. He was fidgeting, freaking and I could not get his head to the side and still. In short, his head wasn't going through that bar. So I tried the other way. Let's squeeze your belly and poop-filled diaper through this bar. No go. Full on D.J. Tanner Full House stuck in the banister moment.
At this point Lucy was hovering. I could tell she was starting to feed off our energy. Tears were
Nothing was working and the calm demeanor I had kept thus far was starting to fade. I couldn't leave John because every time I tried another position he tried to stand up with the rocking chair on his head. (Flashes of a broken spine, neck or concussion flooded my brain). He was bright red and screaming. I was close to asking Lucy to get me a screw driver, saw or crow bar until I realized I didn't even know what I'd do with them.
So, let's call 911. I need help. I've never gotten to this point, but I was there. Where is my phone? Lucy could do that.
Before I pulled the trigger I figured I'd give it one more try. I wriggled, squeezed and sang a little song for my boy. We got it. Well, more specifically I got him out without calling for back up. I also got a sleeve full of poop.
I also got a burnt dinner. But who cares?
I hugged him the whole day and night. It was a close call. I am sure there will be more. For now I'll just be grateful that I didn't have to misuse tools near my son's head, I didn't have Jerry come home to an ambulance in the driveway and that my boy went right back to wreaking havoc like usual.
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