Then on Sunday, I dropped Bat Girl on her head.
Okay, technically I merely dropped her, and her forehead HAPPENED to strike the top of the metal gate keeping her out of the kitchen, and then she HAPPENED to continue falling until she landed facedown on the floor with a sickening thud. And then there was that moment of silence before she started screaming when I thought, "Dear god, I killed my baby." And then the screaming, and the screaming, and the huge black and blue lump that immediately appeared on her forehead, and the attempted icing of said black and blue lump (do you know how hard it is to ice a toddler's forehead? we were only able to do it with the serious application of Blue's Clues*, and even then she kept trying to pull away and shove the icepack off because DAMMIT WOMAN I CAN'T SEE THE CLUES WITH THAT THING IN MY FACE!). And the googling of "baby concussion symptoms," and the flashbacks where I keep seeing her slip out of my arms, do a spiraling half-twist in the air, and plummet to the parquet.
But we're all fine now, really. The ice seems to have worked and the mark is hardly noticeable today. BG hasn't been vomiting or having seizures or walking funny or anything, and she was back to her regular cheerful (interspersed with screaming due to THE BOOK WON'T COME OFF THE SHELF FAST ENOUGH or THE SKWISH WON'T FIT INTO THIS BOX WHERE IT IS CLEARLY NOT DESIGNED TO FIT BUT I MUST MAKE IT FIT, because come on, she's a toddler) self pretty quickly. And I'm sure a head of white hair will look very stylish with my "World's Worst Mother" badge, right?
*Yes, she watches TV. Blue, and also the baby crack known as Yo Gabba Gabba. In fact, she will walk up to me, hand me the remote, and demand "Bwoo!" I'm telling ya, Mother of the Year over here.