I’m at a loss for a blog post for today and, while looking for inspiration, I started trolling my archives. And I decided – why try and come up with something new? Why not look back on Thanksgiving 1992. 25 years ago. Hannah’s first Thanksgiving. (This post originally appeared on November 26, 2013)
This was November 26, 1992. Twenty one years ago tomorrow. My baby girl was exactly 12 weeks old.
Of course she’s wearing a velvet dress. Back in the day when I had any say at all on what she wore on a holiday it always involved velvet. And the blue went with her eyes. And the smocking, well, I just love smocking on a little girl’s dress. The tights and the shoes? Oh my. And I tried with her hair but there just wasn’t enough for a bow in those days.
But what’s up with her right hand? That little “paw” there? Hold onto your hats because this is the part where I admit that I was a bad mother.
You see, I went back to work after my maternity leave on the Monday of Thanksgiving week. I figured a short week was a good way to ease back into work life and I was out of paid time and so it was decided that I would return to work on Monday the 23rd. Being a good wife and mother, I purchased a pot roast to put in the crock pot for that morning. I thought it would be nice to come home after that first day to a ready-made dinner and a wonderful smelling house. I got up extra early that morning and I put the roast in the crock pot on the kitchen counter. I went about the business of getting Hannah and I ready and then I laid her jacket out on the counter and set her on top of it so that I could put it on her – something I had done every time we went out for weeks.
She started crying but that wasn’t unusual since I was stuffing her into her jacket and she often fussed about that. As I went to put her right arm into the sleeve of her coat I saw the red mark and, I’ll admit, I was completely baffled at first. And then I realized – when I laid her on the counter her little hand had gone right up against the hot crock pot. The crying was because she was in pain not because she was mad about the jacket.
I had burned my baby’s hand.
I had burned my baby’s hand and she was crying and I ignored it and thought she was just fussy.
I had burned my baby’s hand and it was already starting to blister.
I brought her straight to my mom’s house – she lived about 5 minutes away. My mom took right over and offered to bring Hannah to the doctor so that I could head to work. I didn’t dare call in, although, looking back on it, I could have and my boss would have understood. So off my mom went with Hannah and off I went to work, crying the whole way.
Worst first day back to work story ever, right?
The burns were second-degree, of course, and we had to use silvadene cream and keep a sterile gauze bandage on it for a bit. And that’s why my baby has a white paw in all of the pictures from her first Thanksgiving.
Mother-of-the year 1992 right here, folks.
Let’s hope Jack’s first Thanksgiving is much less eventful!
That maternal guilt is a strong force, and we’ve all been there! I think Hannah looks sweet, paw and all.
As my dad wisely told my sister a few times in her first year of motherhood, “Relax, children have been surviving their parents for 1000s of years. Yours will too.” It certainly appears Hannah did too. But I imagine that was a very hard day.
Oh Carole – How traumatic for YOU (because you know Hannah has no memories of it) … she is adorable in that blue dress 🙂
Gosh, I didn’t think twice about her glove. Just figured she was scratching herself with those really sharp baby fingernails! Twenty plus years ago, I left a pretty rock on the coffee table as a paperweight, and my cruising daughter pulled the magazines out from under it. Pulled that rock right onto her face as she fell. She still has a tiny scar. I’m in good company 🙂
Aw, I didn’t notice her mitt, either, but what a story and memory for you!! (I am always surprised at how hot crockpots get on the outside… insulation anyone?) Anyway, I think we all have Mother-of-the-Year stories. Mine’s from 1987: navigating with an infant Ali in my arms, I accidentally kicked Kate down the stairs… uncarpeted, wooden stairs… from the top. Poor kid. She was a-okay, but I nearly had a heart attack!
Been there, burned child, but differently: I had covered her car seat with a white dishtowel because I knew how hot stuff gets in a parked car here. I got her into her car seat without incident. Good so far, but then I pulled up the seat belt buckle to buckle her car seat in place (good-old-days technology) and barely touched her cheek with the hot metal as I reached across her. Silvadene cream did the trick, there is no scar on the adult.
Oh yes, we all have those mothering stories. And the memories are AWFUL! Fortunately the victims rarely remember! That is one adorable velvet dress.
I’ve a couple too! Plastic knife…that will be safe…not…3 stitches later! Hannah looks adorable and her mitt matches!
I am very familiar with Silvadene cream, myself . . . I think I tied with you for that 1992 Mother-of-the-Year award — when Brian grabbed my very hot curling iron with his chubby little baby hand . . .
And yet, both Hannah and Brian grew up to be fabulous adults (with no recollections of our transgressions).
Hannah looks so very adorable in her little Thanksgiving outfit. XO
Aw, poor Hannah and poor you! Accidents happen, and as is clear from the comments, they happen to everyone!
I’m fairly certain I won the 1995 Mother of the Year award. My first born was huge (10.5 lbs) and he didn’t like being carried up on my shoulder – he wanted to be laid back football style, with his head in the crook of my elbow. With him being huge and long as well as heavy, and me being a new, sleep deprived mom, every time I walked through a doorway, like every single time, I’d smash his head & my elbow into the door frame. Every. Single. Time. It took me 2 or 3 weeks to learn how to walk through a door without injuring us both. It amazes me he doesn’t have a giant dent in his head.
I have no horrid mother stories, since I have birthed no babies. But I am sure the guilt of actually injuring someone is overwhelming when you are a mother. Hannah looks like a little royal child in this picture!
My guess is every mother has a similar horror story (or two). I’m so sorry your still living with that guilt. Hannah looks darling, nonetheless, and you ARE the mother and grandmother of 2017!!
Oh Carole…I just want to give you a big hug! You are a great mom, and grandma now, and I dare anyone to say they’re a mom without any regrets whatsoever about something accidental that happened to their child. You handled it marvelously at the time and can look back and say that it turned out well!
I think we all have Mother of the Year stories that bring all that mother guilt rushing back. Mine is a doozy and involved hauling a mountain of laundry down stairs with Rachel following me – she fell and broke her elbow. It is one of my most shining moments of mother guilt! But, Hannah looks just darling in that blue dress!