I guess I am not “mother enough” today…
Ever since Phoenyx learned to crawl, the entire house is a damn hazard. I can seriously scan my house and not see one thing on the floor and he finds that tiny miniscule piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of Charlotte’s shoe like 9 weeks ago and kicked under the rug. He has thus far eaten sand, paper, dog food, cat food, an UNO card, and I caught him with the toilet bowl cleaner a few weeks ago.
At this rate, I cannot believe I have a fully functioning and alive 7 year old. I should be banned from parenting. I think my mind blacked out the first 4 years of Charlotte’s life.
Or maybe it was because Charlotte just sat. She was 100% completely content to sit on her butt, surrounded by whatever you would let her have, and enjoy it. She would watch Baby Einstein. She would tear up books. She would jump in the jumperoo. She would just sit there.
Not Little P. He is an overachiever that whines to the umpteenth degree if you restrain him. That boy wants to move, move, move.
So back to my story.
Today I am standing in my living room, I had just walked in there from the kitchen. I dont know what I was doing. Breathing or something. P was doing his usually NASCAR baby circle that goes between my dining room, kitchen, and back to the living room. I had scanned to make sure the cat bowls, vacuum, food, basically everything that could possibly distract him on his journey, was out of the way.
I am standing there, staring in space, and I hear a blood curdling scream. I step into the kitchen. No Phoenyx. No Phoenyx behind the dining table. I go back to the living room. Nope.
I found him on the other side of the kitchen. He had just not come through the path to the living area. I picked him up and scanned him over. I didn’t see ANYTHING wrong. But he was crying the cry of pain. I turned him over, start running my hands down his legs, hands, wondering if he got a piece of glass or splinter. Nothing.
I finally calmed him down and brought him into the kitchen for a snack. As I put him in his high chair, I notice that his nose is bleeding.
All I can think is that he was trying to stand up (his new favorite past time) and fell and smacked his face right on the hardwood floor.
The other option is that around the hallway we have an alarm box that sits in the wall. It’s possible he tried to pull himself up on the box and then lost his balance and hit it on the way down.
Either way, I felt terrible.
I can’t watch him every second. Right?
Can I? Should I?
Coming soon…me on the front page of Time with a big fat #FAIL on my forehead.