Wednesday, Bloody Wednesday

Bedtime did not go as planned.

Big E's frustrating preference of barely eating dinner followed by multiple snacks after teeth brushing, while in bed, caused a minor tiff between us.

I'M READING BOOKS NOW.  IF YOU GO DOWNSTAIRS TO GET A SNACK YOU WILL MISS PART OF THIS BOOK.

His response was to throw a book at my head.  It grazed my chin.  But I had had enough.  I stood up to storm out of the room.  It was either that or throw him out the second story window.

Mid-stride, Little E walked into the path of Tornado Mrs. Yoy.  I tripped on him. He went down hard. I went down harder.  I slammed my already ailing back into Big E's bedroom door as I landed on my side.

Little E started crying.  My back was in flames.  I felt like that old lady on the infamous commercial.

I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP!

I propped myself up on my elbow to assess the damage to Little E.

Blood.  Dripping from his mouth.  On the carpet.  On my iPhone.  Everywhere.

SH*T!

Yes, I dropped a dirty bomb in front of my kids.

I pulled Little E over to me.

BIG E, GO AND GET A WASH CLOTH FROM THE BATHROOM!!!

Shockingly, he listened.

I lifted up Little E's gum to see the wound to the inside of his upper lip.

It stopped bleeding shortly after.  I began crying.  I'm the worst mother in the world.

MOMMY, YOU HURT ME.  (Little E said it twice for good measure).

Thanks, Little E!  You are really massaging away my raging feelings of guilt.

In summary:

1)  I stormed out of my 4 year-old's room like a 4 year-old.
2)  I took out an innocent bystander in the process.
3)  I cussed in front of my kids.

Where do I pick up my sash and crown for winning WORST MOTHER EVER?


Tomorrow I will work on my temper.  I am an adult.  Big E is not.  And repeat.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

March 16th. Day 1.

March 17th. Day 2.

March 20th. Day 5.