Do you ever have those days when you feel like a bad parent? Here are a couple of excerpts from Allyson's journal chronicling some of my less stellar parenting days.
Is That Finger Paint? 3/31/08 (22 months)
One of the nicest things as you've gotten older is the way you can entertain yourself so well, for longer and longer periods. This definitely comes in handy when I need to take a shower or cook dinner.
Last week, I was taking a shower while you happily read books, played with blocks, and pushed your Little People bus around the steamy bathroom. When I got out, I was delighted that you continued to entertain yourself while I completed my five-step Swiss Arbonne skin care regimen. Since you were happy and staying out of trouble, I decided to press my luck and spend 10 minutes styling my hair.
As I basked in the warm air from the blow dryer, I noticed that you were now snooping in Daddy's vanity drawer. I figured you'd throw everything out on the floor, but I let you keep playing since you were having so much fun, and since I only had a few minutes left before my hair would be perfectly coiffed.
Just as I finished the last flip and dutifully unplugged the dryer so that you couldn't drop it into the sink, I noticed that you were smearing something on Daddy's cabinet door--something red. Had you somehow found a lipstick?
My heart started to pound when I leaned closer and realized that you were literally finger painting with your own blood! You had obviously found Daddy's Mach 3 razor, and you were mesmerized by the steady flow of blood from the tip of your index finger.
I started to panic but caught myself; you weren't even crying, and you were watching me to see how you should react. "You have an owie," I explained calmly as I grabbed a T-shirt off the floor and applied pressure to slow the bleeding.
After about five minutes, I gently washed your finger, blotted it dry, and quickly wrapped a Band-Aid around it. I held your finger firmly while I read you a story....
You were fascinated with the Band-Aid, which formed a long, skinny point like a witch's hat. You kept pointing at things with that tip, and you also liked tapping or poking yourself with it. "Allyson - owie!" you kept repeating, waving your pointy Band-Aid.
It wasn't until the next morning that I could see the parallel double cuts on your poor finger. No wonder it bled so much! It didn't get sore or infected, though, and it healed very quickly.
Needless to say, we have moved the razor safely out of reach. I felt like a bad mom to have overlooked such an obvious danger, but you just grow so fast! What was out of reach yesterday is perfectly accessible today. I'm just thankful that you didn't seem to suffer any pain.
Poor Little Monkey! 4/30/08 (23 months)
Recently, Daddy couldn't find you anywhere, though he could hear you giggling in Ethan's room. He finally found you hiding in the corner of Ethan's bunk bed. He was shocked and horrified. How had you gotten up the metal rungs of the ladder?
Since then, we've found you up there several times, always laughing. It's so hard to get you down! You're very heavy when I lift you up over my head. We've had to start keeping Ethan's door closed.
A couple of days ago, you were having a rare grumpy afternoon. You kept fussing and fussing. You wanted to play with the fancy piggy bank from Nordstrom's, and I wouldn't let you. I stepped into the hall to distance myself from your whining, which only made you cry harder. I tried to tune it out.
Suddenly, I began distinguishing words from the incessant crying. "Help me, Mama! Help me!"
I whipped around and found you dangling from your quilt rack, hanging by your armpits! You were frantic. I think you were trying to scale the quilt rack to reach the forbidden piggy bank.
I carefully extricated you from the rack and then held you close while you cried hysterically. I felt so bad for ignoring you--even for a moment. It took a few minutes to calm you down, poor little monkey!
OK, so here's what I want to know.... Does anyone else have bad mommy stories? It would make me feel so much better to know I am not the only less-than-perfect mom. Kindly comment with your stories!