Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer

In some parts of the country, summer is over. The air is turning crisp, leaves are fading from bright green to the lovely palette of burnt oranges and reds signifying autumn. (Hey- I can get poetic when I have a mind to!)

That is not so where I am here in South Florida. The only indication that fall is on the horizon is the fact that my calendar is turned to September and the fall equinox is marked in a box. Additionally, people are throwing their end-of-summer/Labor Day barbecues, one of which we attended last week.

Here is a picture of Lance enjoying a watermelon.

That's my arm there next to him. :)

This photograph tells a story. A story that most likely I will be the only one to remember. Just minutes before this photo was taken, Lance and I took a spill. A nasty spill.

At this particular gathering, there were two other families with young children, ranging from age 2-6. They were running back and forth between the house and the slip-and-slide which is not pictured here. The patio floor, as a result, was wet. I did not know this. As I was carrying Lance out to the backyard to join in the festivities, I slipped in a puddle and the two of us went down. Hard.

I landed on my knees and then toppled forward. Then, things went in slow motion. I saw Lance falling away from me, his head milliseconds away from smashing on the hard tile floor. Then, I heard it. A loud "smack." I saw his head bounce. I was certain that when I lifted him up, I would see blood all over the floor.

Miraculously, there wasn't. Everyone who was in attendance saw something different from what I remember. They all said that they saw me catch him, with my hand behind his head, and that it was my hand that hit the floor.

I'm tellin' ya, they must have seen the hand of the Lord supporting my boy's head, because to my recollection, my hand was nowhere near his head. Plus, if my hand had indeed hit the floor with the weight of a 22-pound baby pressing it down, surely there would be a bruise or something, but no. I felt no pain on my hand and there's not a mark on it.

Someone grabbed Lance from me, and someone else helped me up to my feet. They were all asking me if I was okay, and I was annoyed with them for not immediately getting something to stop the blood gushing out of his head (because I was sure that it was) and/or calling 911. I didn't understand why they didn't seem to care.

It's because they witnessed a miracle. They witnessed my child's life being saved by the hand of an angel. I wish I could have seen it, too!

My knees got a little banged up and bruised, and they're still a little tender, but other than that, we're all fine! As you can see from the photo, Lance calmed down as soon as we gave him some food! I think he was more scared than anything else.


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If you haven't already, stop by Growing A Life and wish Flybaby a happy 1st birthday!



Here is a picture of Flybaby and Lance in adjoining high chairs at a local ice-cream place. Damselfly, J.P., Lance, Hubby and I went out to celebrate with them. His birthday was on Friday, but today Damselfly and J.P. are hosting a party for him at their home. More pictures to follow!