Sometimes I am so proud of myself. I look around at my beautiful family, wonderful home, and my awesome job and say, "Wow, you rocked today". Then God laughs at my pride and gives me a day where I find myself saying, "Wow, you really sucked today". I would like to title a recent day, "The Day I Almost Killed My Baby". It went well until I picked the boys up from school (cue music).
Arriving home, I decide to assuage my mommy guilt by making R some homemade baby food. Hmm I think, he is getting tired of bananas. Maybe I should add something to the bananas to make them more tasty. What about cinnamon, no use that all the time. Nutmeg, done that. I know! I will use honey. Of course that would be great. Honey will make it so tasty. Put on some music while cooking up baby cocktail of death. I even use organic honey--more spores to kill you with my dear. Quick taste, about to serve, and then God himself slaps me across the back of the head and I remember. Boy that would have been embarrassing--visiting my future ICU colleagues with my limp botulinum infected baby.
R, having narrowly escaped attempt #1 on his life, continues to play happily after eating his bananas sans spores of death. I start the bath and begin to undress him on the changing table. When he is half way undressed I hear that the tub is getting full. I step away from the changing table. Where is the baby? Did you perhaps forget that your rolling, sitting, moving baby is still on the changing table? Dash back to table--narrowly rescuing R from the 4.5 foot plunge of death onto hard wood. Ok maybe not death, but embarrassing trip to the ER for head CT.
Still happy and smiling at me, R has no idea how the day has gone. He is happy and loves me and trusts me. I am appalled at my mothering but more humble. Hey, at least dinner was good right?
