Bad Mothering

I almost entitled this post:

Hard Knocks Preschool

But then I decided that didn't quite implicate me thoroughly. So I wanted my title to be more honest...since...

 

I am a bad mother. 

On Saturday Jake fell off the bed. This was not his inaugural fall. We are talking third time, ladies (and gents?)

I nursed him to sleep on our bed, and I didn't want to move him to his crib because I didn't want to wake him. I did tuck some pillows around him and stupidly deemed them impediments enough to contain the little mover before he went exploring. An hour later, I dutifully jumped up from my internet surfing at baby's first chortle, but as I was trotting to the bedroom I heard the thump. 

Oh, the guilt.

He was in my arms before the crying began. That awful crying with the long gaps in between the wails. 

Thankfully the crying didn't last long, and he was quickly pushing and kicking against my chest to be let down again. 

That's when I saw it. Baby's first raspberry. 

 

The picture doesn't do it justice...but that's not the point...the point is that my first (FIRST!) thought was about the bridal shower we were attending later that day and how my delinquency would be on display for all the pretty ladies.

If only things like this were one time occurrences. 

On Friday I let him play with my drinking glass...and then it shattered in his lap.

Yesterday he pulled out the container where we store all our various tape and adhesives. After letting him empty about half of its contents I remembered that the packing tape had those metal teeth on it. Upon going over to retrieve it, I saw that the box also had an exacto knife, ripe and ready for the cutting, AND a razor blade.

I have to go. Sorry to end so abruptly...I let Jake play with his favorite toy - the dustpan - in his favorite room - the bathroom - and I'm pretty sure he's currently licking the base of the toilet.