The Ultimate Kitchen Catastrophe

Warning - This Post is Only for the Brave - Seriously!

I have a Kitchenaid.  I love my Kitchenaid.  It helps me make all my bread, cookie dough, cupcakes and quick breads.  It whips up cream, egg whites and frosting in a mere minute.  It has lasted me 15 years and shows no signs of slowing down.  I am weary of those who do not own a Kitchenaid.  How could you live without one of my best friends?

It is durable.  It's motor is strong.  It gets the job done.  It is a piece of equipment to be reckoned with.  The Kitchenaid should be respected and taken seriously.  I have learned the hard way. 


I can talk about and share my story now.  But when it happened it was very traumatic.


One Sunday about 4 years ago I was in the kitchen making rolls for dinner.  Lila kept asking to help, and I kept telling her no.  Everyone knows that by the millionth time you just give in because you can't stand to be asked  ONE. MORE. TIME.  I sat her on the counter next to the  Kitchenaid in motion kneading dough, turned around to grab the flour, turned back, and time stood still.


My little girl was  facing me on the counter, but bent over to her right with her face practically touching the bowl of the mixer.  Her eyes were closed and no noise was made.


I knew instantly she was in great pain.  Tears were already coming, but again, no sound.  My hand flew to the knob that would turn the mixer off.  Her head was still bent over.  All in an instant I wondered what to do and realized I didn't have the luxury to think, only to act.  I was the mom and I had to DO SOMETHING!


As my hand went to untangle the knots all caught in the top of the dough hook, Lila, in what seemed like slow motion, sat back upright. The tangled blond locks didn't come with her.  I couldn't look.  I just put my hand over her head and held my baby girl so tight and sat down on the couch while for the first time in our marriage my husband yelled at me.  I assume I screamed for him when I turned the mixer off.  I remember his exact words.  "MARIE, OUR DAUGHTER IS BALD!!!!"

Yes, she was missing a lot of hair, but she wasn't bleeding, her scalp was intact.  She had a raging headache and after some aspirin fell asleep for a few hours.  I couldn't bear to shampoo her hair for weeks, I made Glenn do it.  Luckily she had a strip of hair that enabled me to put her hair in a ponytail to hide the bald patch.  We switched off between ponytail, bun, ponytail, bun - for months.


Live and learn.  I absolutely did.  But what was really difficult for me was thinking I was aware of all the dangers posed to children, and missing this one.  It made me question everything.  I would obsessively think  "What else am I missing, what else.  I missed that, there must be a million other things I haven't thought of".


You do the best you can.  Better actually.  It's my job to protect my kids.  To keep them safe.  From the elements, bullies, illness, bad guys and kitchen appliances.


I am pretty relaxed when it comes to my kids.  Probably something to do with those 8 siblings I have.  I didn't become paranoid that day, just much more aware.  Much More.


I would catch my breath so many times in the following months after that incident.  So thankful that it hadn't been worse.  Thankful I was given this beautiful child, and two others.  Thankful for a second chance at being more careful. 

Lila has forgotten all about that traumatic day.  But I haven't.  I don't dwell on what I could have done.  Only on what I will do in the future.  Trying to stay somewhat ahead of possible dangers that surround them.

For obvious reasons if you are in my kitchen your hair must be in a ponytail............or a bun.