You hear about it all the time. All the new mom's talk about it. You can't quite understand it, but you know it must be true. They all seem to say the same thing.
"Leaving your child, even if just for a day, can be tough."
They say they worry about them and miss them. They hope they're safe, that they're being looked after.
You wonder, "What the he!! is going to happen to your kid while you're out for a few hours?"
Now I know.
I left Eric unattended for 24 hours this week while I flew to BYU for some EY recruiting. Was I worried about him? Not really.
I will be next time...
In his own words, the morning after I had left:
"It ended up being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day... it's almost too soon to relive it.
I went out the front door, unlocked by bike from the banister, and started on my way to school. It was like any other day.
Cold. Rainy.
I'm going through the only intersection between home and class. A fairly busy intersection, always cars waiting for a green light. The construction has made it worse.
So what happened was, I'm in the bike lane, coming up on the construction zone. I suddenly realize the the bike lane has been blocked by a road-roller.
(Eric now calls this "The Enemy" whenever we drive by)I had to get out of the bike lane. I noticed just before the road-roller, there was a break to enter the sidewalk.
I'm about a foot from the sidewalk... and then I see it.
The construction workers had dug a divot for the road repaving right before the ramp. Now there's a 3 inch high lip to the sidewalk, but I figured my tough mountain bike could handle it.
It couldn't.
(Eric swears the construction workers must have filled in the divot since then... I'm skeptical)It stops me dead... and I fall all the way off my bike. I land on the ground, my bike wrecked, jeans ripped and hands bleeding.
I know people saw the whole thing because when they're light turned green, it took them a moment to get going.
The worst part: I picked up my bike and the brakes were bent, making it impossible for the wheel to turn. So I had to turn around and walk back across the busy intersection... dragging my bike home.
Later, after I got my hand all bandaged up, people kept asking me what happened. When I told them I crashed on my bike, they'd ask, 'Motorcycle?''Nope... my bicycle.'
Then we'd usually just part ways."
I am going back to BYU for recruiting next weekend. I'm not sure what I'll do to keep him safe in my absence. Today I think we'll stop by the bike store and get him some necessary gear (helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, reflective vest, gloves, maybe a protective leather jumpsuit that erupts into sirens and lights upon impact).
Maybe I'll ask around church on Sunday for a good babysitter to check in on him... because this is apparently a recurring problem:
