In the wars…

The last week or so has been a bloodbath in the Jezzafuji household.

On a particularly hot day, when Mrs Jezzafuji returned from the supermarket, rather than leaving the kids baking in the car whilst she unloaded, she decided to let them out so they could play. As per usual, she got Ollie out, carried him indoors, took his shoes off and went back for Ella. As usual, like a good boy, he waited for her to return with Ella.

Then, as Mummy bent down to undo Ella’s shoes, he made a break for the open front door.

In one of those sickening coincidences, we had recently removed the rather tatty front door mat from outside the house, so when Oliver duly tottered his tin-man run and tripped on the door threshold, he pitched forward not onto a hessian mat, but face first onto the bare concrete front doorstep.

His lower teeth nearly, but not quite, went through his bottom lip.

Blood poured everywhere.

In another bizarre twist of fate, it was precisely at that moment, and not a second earlier, that E, our Mother’s Help, arrived.

En route to A&E, Mrs J diverted via the local doctor’s surgery, just to check to see if stitches were needed. In the GP’s opinion, thankfully not. All teeth were ok and we just needed to let the massively-inflated lower protuberance heal in its own way.

The following morning, as I was in the bathroom shaving, talking through the open door with Mrs J who was playing with the kids on the floor of the small landing, Ollie got up and pushed against the closed 3rd bedroom door. We keep it closed because we’d been going through stuff from the attic and they’re terrible ones for rooting through boxes and emptying them in about two seconds flat.

The door, this time, wasn’t closed properly (we have a 100-year old house without a square angle in the place and so you have to close doors and then pull on them until you hear them click). It swung open and Ollie took two steps forward, turned to us as we called him back out, and then somehow fell over his feet and fell face first, glancing his head off the small metal safe that we have bolted to the floor tucked against the wall just inside the room.

Within about two seconds there was already a big rapidly-purpling egg on the side of his forehead, and major heart palpitations in our chests. Thankfully, no concussion and no lasting damage, other than to the fact that we’d lost another couple of years off our lives from the stress.

Only a mere 24 hours after this, Ella decided to throw herself face first onto the floor and cut her own bottom lip, grazing the outside of her top lip and nose in the process.

By this time, we were starting to question our abilities as parents. How could this happen? We watch them like hawks; we’re probably over-protective if anything…Friends consoled us by saying that this is just what happens to them at this age, as they gain their independence by running around on their own. It wasn’t much comfort.

And then two days ago I caused the big one. I had decided that since cricket practice had been cancelled for the last two weeks because the University was using the cricket school for exams, that this Wednesday I was definitely going to let off some steam at the indoor nets session, which runs from 7 until 9.

Since the kids don’t finish the bath-milk-bed routine until 7, we decided to have our dinner early, whilst they were still up, before bath time at 6.30pm. The kids seemed to love the fact that Mummy and Daddy were the ones at the table for once and they were the ones walking around, as they took little tastes of our dinner like pampered pooches.

Ollie picked up his spouted cup, drained the water from it, and then picked up Ella’s in his other hand. She, seeing it as a challenge game, gave chase. He turned and made a break for the dining room door, only making it two steps before falling flat on his face, unable to brace his fall because of the cups he was holding.

It’s true what they say – time does slow right down and almost stand still in these moments. That feeling was compounded by the terrible silence that hits like a hammer after the initial sound of face hitting floor. It’s the pause as the child draws in an immense breath to let out the kind of scream that will chill you to the bone and make your insides appear in your throat.

Within a split second I was picking him up, but I could see the shard of white on the floor. As I lifted his shrieking face to mine, sure enough, he had broken a front tooth. 15 months old. He’d only had the teeth for less than a year, and it is at least another 4 years (and possible several more) before he’ll get a replacement.

The shock he was feeling was nothing compared to the huge sense of despair and guilt as I realised that although I’d suggested we should put them in the bath, my stomach had outvoted my brain by growling and encouraging me to put dinner before my kids.

Even Ella knew something really bad had happened, because she went and sat underneath the dining room table, looking sheepish and bereft.

A call to the emergency dentist helpline suggested that if there was no nerve showing (thankfully not) that he would be ok to wait until our own dentist opened again in the morning.

As he sucked his teeth and obviously played his tongue around the new layout of his mouth, I looked at my gorgeous son and wondered how I could be so powerless to help him against even the simplest of problems. If that’s how useless I am as a protective father, how on earth will I be his guardian through life in the face of real danger?

When they arrived into this world, I made them both a vow that I would protect us three with my life, and never let harm befall them. It hasn’t exactly taken long for that promise to be exposed as hollow. I know it’s an impossible task, but you still feel like you should be able to keep them safe from lasting damage at the very least…

Of course, in no time at all, as with his other accidents, he’d put it behind him and was back playing happily and chasing Ella across the bedroom carpet.

For us, putting this week behind us is going to take far, far longer.

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Tags: accident, broken tooth, children, falls, guilt, protection, Twins