I’m not alone
He’s fine. There’s not a single bump or bruise or remnant of yesterdays debacle. Must be that good Norwegian blood flowing through his veins.
Last night I was so sad. I don’t know how else to describe it. I was really, very happy that Luca was fine, but I felt like such a failure as a mother. First of all, I was petrified that I’d get locked up in jail because they’d look at my history with PPD and figure I did it on purpose. Not to mention when I was at the hospital, Claire didn’t have any shoes on. I don’t know if I mentioned that or not, but she didn’t. I ran out of the house so quickly that I didn’t put shoes on her. I also didn’t wear a coat and it was a happy 12 degrees out and I was wearing my work out capris and white tee…with blood stains on it. I looked like a deranged mother at her wit’s end.
I also felt like a failure because I knew better. Luca is Speed Racer. Anything longer than 2 seconds is 2 seconds too long and he’s outta here. I knew that. What the hell was I thinking leaving that door open? Especially with him so damn close. I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.
So of course, I had posted on my facebook that I was a damn schmuck and should be stripped of all Motherly duties. Here’s the response I got:
Other people have had it happen to themselves! Parents, kids…it was amazing. I didn’t feel like the only mother in the world that sucked and I was doing an OK job. Yes, now I’m going to be a hell of a lot more observant with Luca (he’s a pistol) but I don’t have to hate myself anymore. As my step-dad put it:
“I can’t imagine how scary that must’ve been for you. I’m guessing you’re probably going to be beating yourself up for this, and that’s okay–for a little bit. But what happened was an accident–nothing more. Take your cue from Luca–things happen, you learn what you need to learn, then move on. And yeah, I know that’s easy to say because he’s all right, but that is the point–he’s all right.”
He’s all right.