No Really, He Fell

My poor kid has had a time of it in the past few weeks.  While he is settling in fairly nicely and LOVES being outside (though no developments on the grass aversion), he has fallen a number of times onto the sidewalk.  The poor thing has road rash in varying states of heal, all over his head.  I feel awful.  Although I know there was nothing I could do about the falls, I literally sit up in bed at night, worrying that he has some unseen issues under the surface of his scalp.  Although I was sitting right there, I couldn't catch him as he rolled down the last stair and onto the concrete and I hate myself for it.  I worry that the noises he makes at night are him trying to tell me of the damage I have allowed to be inflicted that will show itself in ACT scores making him eligible only for a low-grade school such as Duke.  I'm horrified and guilty and generally feel awful.

This may be why, when we are in public, I freak out when people ask me about it.  Oh, and they do.  The checker at the grocery store:  "Oh, honey, what did you do to your head?"  The lady at the drycleaner's:  "Wow, that's quite the scrape.  What happened?"  My relatives:  "He looks like your dad did as a kid.  Ouch."  Everywhere we go, people ask.  And because of my guilt over the fact that I feel like I should have somehow wrapped him in bubble wrap before setting him on any hard surface, I look at them like deer in the headlights.  Which makes it look really bad.  Particularly because I then usually stammer "he f...fell."  This is where I usually get a strange look, followed by silence.  I know what I sound like--just like a victim or an abuser, afraid to tell the truth about how the bruises appeared.  It's horrible.  And I can't stop for some reason.  And it's getting worse.  So now, in addition to the poor kid looking like he uses his head to stop the Buzz Lightyear scooter, his mom's going to be taken away shortly in cuffs.

If anyone has any advice on getting rid of the guilt when your child is hurt and/or how to respond to inquiries about whether you are abusive, I'd love to hear them.  In the meantime, you can find me in jail cell 6.  Please send cookies.