2020 is like falling down a flight of stairs

In case you want to know what it feels like falling down a flight of stairs while holding your son, or maybe just how 2020 feels like; here it is.

I woke up late this morning. My son woke me up around 6am and I walked into his bedroom and lay down on the sofa bed because there’s just no way we’re getting up at that hour. We both luckily fell asleep, but I forgot to set my alarm, so when I woke up at 8am, him stirring slightly in his bed, I was quite stressed at the notion of getting him to kindergarten by 8:30. We got up, and he walked over to his indoor swing to play. I said I was going downstairs, and he said he wanted to play.
Fine then. I picked up his water bottle, my water glass and my phone as I do every morning and walked down the stairs locking the baby gate first, telling him to come down when he’s ready.

Obviously he never said he was ready, so I walked back upstairs and he ran to the gate. “Open the gate!” he said. Quickly evaluating the situation, I knew he would take about 4 minutes walking down the stairs on his own due to his creative mind. So I decided that it would save us some time if I just carried him instead. Knowing I’d have to pretend this would be fun in order for him to comply, I said: “No, you should jump into my arms! Jump!” He did jump, and I caught him in my arms and lifted him over the gate smiling. Then I turned around and apparently this is when it all went downstairs.

Our stairs are very steep. As I turned, my foot must have slipped. It’s absolutely amazing how many thoughts can travel through your mind in baffling speed. So I found myself quite literally on my ass, sliding down the staircase. I looked down at my son, my face probably struck by panic and his face mimicking this as a mirror. He had flipped upside down, and I had my arm tucked underneath his body as we slid swiftly down the stairs. My elbow hitting every step on the way down, I was luckily holding his head up with my hand and half his body was resting on my arm. My only focus was to try to lift him up, but this proved to be an impossible task. We were closing the turn, and I was wondering whether or not it would be possible to stop our descent there, but we were going too fast.

As my body turned into the curve of the stairs, I looked at the bowls of cat food and the bowl of water sitting at the bottom of the stairs and I remember belting out a panicked “Nooooo” in a voice I couldn’t recognise because I realised I couldn’t stop this from happening. My foot crashed into the water bowl after miraculously skipping the kibbles, and I felt the splashes of water all over us before my toes stubbed into the wall at the bottom. All I could think of was to check if my son was hurt, and as I tried to lift him into my lap I realised my arm wouldn’t move. His little face was bewildered for a second before crying fiercly. My first instinct was to try to not show him that I was really scared and hurting, so I just looked at him, trying to see if he was hurt. My girlfriend came running from the downstairs bedroom (thank goodness) while screaming, and yanked our son from my arms.

I tried to sit up, but I suddenly noticed that everything hurt and I was blacking out. I put my hand to my forehead and leaned against the railing, feeling the cold sweat on my skin. Her voice felt far away as she called out asking if I was okay. I wanted to say yes, but I was not, so I had to say no. I asked if he was okay. She said she thought he was. I heard him calling out for his favourite blankie, so I got up and stumbled to his bag to get the extra one from kindergarten. She said to go lie down on the bed, and I was like “Pfff I’m fine, it’s okay.” She said “You’re green”. I said “Does my voice sound funny?” She said “No.”
I felt like I was drunk, and I had to sit down.

My rear seems to have taken the whole entirety of the fall, as it is now 50 shades of black. My son escaped with a couple of scratches and bruises on the side I wasn’t able to hold up during our joyride. I am so grateful that things didn’t end up worse.

I think this is a good analogy of how 2020 is going so far. We’ll be okay, guys. Even if it hurts like heck and we’re terrified. It’ll get better.