I felt like the worst mommy ever today. Most Likely To Permanently Screw Up Her Children. First, Eli finally learned how to roll over- and promptly fell off the couch, missing the oak coffee table by inches, but still managing to bump his head on the floor and completely freak his little self out. Also to completely freak ME out. Because here's the bad mommy part:I wasn't even there. I heard the thump from the kitchen and ran to the living room in time to see his face scrunch up in horror and his mouth open in a scream.
He's generally fine if we lay him on the couch, positioned so he won't just roll off the edge, of course, and so I often put him down there while I fold laundry or play with Addy (or blog, or totally space out...) But I must have been puttering around, tidying things up, and gone to return some dirty dish to the kitchen when it happened. I felt SO AWFUl. He was fine; no red marks or bumps on his head or noticeable weirdness of any kind. But, to use a line from a few days ago when I was judging other people for their stupidity, WHO DOES THAT?! Who leaves a baby old enough to be learning to roll over alone on a couch?
Then, while I was comforting him, Addy ran off on her own, and returned with some mysterious red mark on her forehead! Now, she's very fair and gets blotchy anytime she bumps into anything, but what the heck! My children are clearly not safe in my care; they're just falling all over the place. I need a rubber room.
Fast forward to naptime. Cue the screaming and forty-five minute circus. Again, I feel like the stupidest mother alive. See, almost the day after I posted about Addy's fit-throwing over naps and bedtime, she quit throwing the fits and finally got used to the no-bottle policy. But then- THEN- I went and screwed it all up the other day. She was overly tired and crying even as I was getting her ready for bed, so I tried to comfort her by getting in bed with her, reading extra stories, letting her up for snacks and drink, etc. (You: Smacking head. "Oh no you DIH-UHNT!") Yes, I did. I am a moron. And now she's throwing fits again. She is in fact throwing a fit from behind her baby gate even as I type (it's eleven thirty at night.) I already dealt with this today, and am still recovering. I can't go up to bat again. But I have no choice, because Jim got called back to work at seven thirty and I am here alone. Alone with the special lasagna I made for dinner that he DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TIME TO EAT.
If there weren't brownies in this house, I might have snapped awhile ago.