Horrible Parenting

 There are days where I feel like the worse parent in the world. Yesterday was one of those days. I got up and got ready to meet with a school that we are considering for LoLo Monster. I put on the accessories and make up in an effort to look like a responsible parent. I looked like the person I remembered from before having kids, which usually makes for a good first impression. He really wants to go to school and I am sure that my mother could use a break from watching 2 children. I had already decided to go without him because he woke up coughing and sneezing with a runny nose the day before. With that thought in mind I took he and his sister to Grandparent Day Care. My LoLo was dressed in his baseball uniform pajamas and carrying his 2 new favorite books. He was ready for a day of relaxing.

I arrive and my mother convinces me that since he is not sneezing I should get him ready and take him because it would be great for them to meet him. Looking back, I think she was trying to get a few more minutes of peace and I don’t blame her. A recovering 3 year old is not a good time. I pack him in the car and by the time we are half way there he starts sneezing and snotting all over my back seat. I pass a handful of tissues and hope for the best. I do at least check at every red light to make sure that all bodily fluids are in the tissue and that the tissues do not become toys, but there is only so much I can do with him being so far away. I beg him to stop saying, “Oh shoot, maaan” and “Yo”. My mother always asks me why he is so hood.  I just sigh, roll my eyes and hope he gets it all out of his system before we get there.

We arrive and I am in a hurry because I realize that I have a meeting at work in 2 hours. As I get him to stand close to me in the parking lot I close the door and look away. As I look back I see the door swinging shut and a little on the inside. I scream. It closes. He screams. Did I mention we are in the school parking lot and this is our first impression? I get his hand out and scoop him up. “You smashed me, Mommy!” I apologize and tell him it is all my fault and that we will go home after going to the potty. I get in and have to explain. I get him cleaned up in the bathroom. I check for broken skin, he has no real scratch. I check for broken bones, he seems ok there. I check for swelling. The swelling has already started. He asks me to stop touching him and I explain that I cannot. I have forgotten that just hours ago this is the little boy I threatened to give a “Pow Pow” if he did not stop getting out of the bed and screaming about tissue at 12:30 this morning. Nope. All I see is my sweet baby with a boo boo that is all my fault.

They suggest going to the hospital. My first thought is, “Oh, God not again. They are going to call the people on me.” The last time I went to the hospital it was because he jumped off the bed right before “night-night” and hit his head on a corner of my childhood bed. Old wooden beds are good for longevity, but not for play time. I ran him into the emergency room in just his underwear and dressed him while we waited. I had already been to the emergency room that morning because he wanted to play big brother and picked up his sister by himself and dropped her to the ground when I screamed. Thank God she slid and landed on her padded diaper butt. I hate going to the emergency room. I know my doctor gets those reports. Is she going to report me, too? I take a deep breath and remember that those visits were months ago. I may not be the best parent, but I at least won’t be arrested.

As I go to reschedule the appointment, the director offers some ointment that will prevent swelling. LoLo has stopped crying and is now playing and wants to take the tour. So, I pull it together and carry my 30 pound monster on a 40 minute tour. Aww, crap, I just remember that ice pack might still be in my purse. Gotta go!