I don’t think any mother honestly believes that she should be winning “Mother of the Year” even if any such award really exists. I like to post on my private Facebook page that I won’t be winning Mother of the Year on days when things in our house have been rough or have generally not gone according to my Type A plan. So, in honor of this recently established blog category, I will share with you some past instances in our lives that have proven I’m not winning this award any time soon. Some are silly and some are more serious. All of them are remembered with relief and humor. I would just like to point out that we’ve all survived.
When our oldest child, Kendall, was 6-weeks-old I forgot that she was napping on our bed. I carelessly tossed the television remote onto the bed and hit her in the head with it. She didn’t even wake up. Go me!
Kendall used to have periods during which she was inconsolable when she was a newborn. I once left her on our bed to cry it out while I went to the kitchen to get a snack and take a few calming breaths. She couldn’t roll over yet so I knew she was safe. When she very suddenly stopped screaming, I knew that I had killed her. I ran to check on her and discovered her asleep.
I cut Kendall’s fingertip pretty nicely while trimming her nails. I first did this when she was a wiggly newborn so I had an excuse. I did it again yesterday. She’s 5. Oops!
My kids are all obsessed with beer. Instead of discouraging it, I take pictures. (Before you start searching Google for the phone number for Tampa’s Child Protective Services, no child of mine has ever actually tasted any alcohol.) Kendall is also obsessed with jail. She’s never been there herself but she loves any TV show about jail, police or people being arrested.
On a similar topic, I frequently leave our TV on even though I’m not watching it. I like the background noise. As a result, Kendall knows exactly how babies are born. She didn’t want to come to the hospital when Luca was born because, according to her, I was going to scream when he came “out of my butt” and she didn’t want to witness that. Damn you “A Baby Story” on TLC!
I called a fellow driver a “fucker” under my breath while my kids were in the car once. Kendall, who was 2 at that time, proceeded to use that word relentlessly (but appropriately) for months. I also taught her to say “ass.”
When she started crawling, Kendall would follow me around constantly. She started crying suddenly one day when I was out of sight and I assumed that she was upset that she couldn’t see me. I peeked around the corner, told her she was fine and to keep going and headed back to what I was doing. By the time she made her way into the kitchen, blood was dripping from behind her pacifier. Apparently she had slipped and cut her gum on the pacifier.
Peyton was starving and severely dehydrated as a newborn and I didn’t recognize the signs. This one actually requires a longer explanation which I’m sure I’ll cover in a future post. For now, I’ll say that she had an undiagnosed medical issue that made eating difficult for her. She appeared to be nursing well but wasn’t. She outgrew the issue and is totally fine now.
Peyton seriously burned her hand on our stovetop when I was standing right there. It happened so fast. Kendall also seriously burned her hand when she was younger but she did so on the inside of the oven door. My husband was there for that one. I’m sure Luca will find a way to burn his hand when he gets a bit older. Look out for that post when it happens.
I have let my kids get sunburnt more times than is appropriate. I really try to sunscreen them frequently!
I have twice forgotten Luca’s formula when we’re going out for the day. I had to scramble to make other arrangements for his meal.
I had to call 911 when Kendall was 2 because she pulled down a table, shattering the glass top across much of our house. I was walking toward her when she did it and couldn’t dive to save her or the table because I was quite pregnant with Peyton. She and I only suffered relatively minor cuts. Kendall also had a bruise and scrape where the table had grazed her head as it passed over her to the floor. Who has a half-circle glass table with three legs in a house with a toddler?! I have since gotten rid of the matching glass dining table because it was a source of constant stress.
Luca fell off of an ottoman while sleeping when he was just a few weeks old. How this was allowed to happen is a matter of debate between my mother and I but he is my son and therefor my responsibility.
I occasionally take pictures of the kids when they’re crying before consoling them. I photograph everything in their lives. Babies cry people!
I know that I’m not a perfect person or a perfect mother. But I don’t think kids want or expect perfection. How would a child learn to deal with failure, heartbreak, pain or disappointment if their parent’s every move was fabulously perfect. I don’t want my kids to think I’m perfect. I want them to know me. Flaws and all. I’m sure any mother has some similar stories even if she is unwilling to air the so publicly. I’m also sure I’ll have more to add soon.