Here are three minutes of my morning yesterday:
Ok. Got a load of laundry started! Excellent! Today is going to be great! Let’s start unloading the dishwash… “ooooOOooo! Lulu! Put the curtain back!” Who said that? What’s going on? Walk to the bathroom. “Lulu! Out of there! Auntie Corey is showering!” “I have go poop!” “Ok, Love. Go ahead. Corey I’ll come right back to wipe.” Shut the door. Ok, turn on some good music, let’s stay happy! Back to the dishwa…“Whooooah! Whooooah! Whoah!”What? Walk to the living room. “Mo! What did I tell you about spinning circles on the hard floor?” Grab her arm, quick before she faceplants. “Sit down until you’re not dizzy.” “Ehhhh….Waaaaah!” Is that Dom crying? Doesn’t sound like he’s really in trouble. Grab a sip of coffee. Probably just wants Lulu’s toy. “Mommy! Mommy! I done!” Oh! That’s right! Lulu’s in the bathroom. “Waaaaaaahhhh!” Gotta wipe Lulu then check on Dom Dom. Put one dish in the cupboard. Walk to bathroom. Open door. “Ok Lulu. All done. Please wash your hands, and shut the door.” “WaaaAAAaaahh” Dom, you’ll just have to wait a second, I’ve got to take these 4 day old wet washcloths straight to the washer, they are so musty! “Mom, can you read me this book?” “Not right now sweetie.” Walk back to the other side of the house. What? I never started the drier! Two loads of wet laundry? Again?! Arg! {kick the washer} Why can’t I ever do this right!? What is wrong with me. I’m sure other Moms can handle all this day to day stuff. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to prioritize and choose what to…“MOM! How do you spell Wonder Woman?” “W.O…” “W.O?” “Yes, W.O. and then N. D…” “Waaaaaah waaahhh” Dom! Walking quickly down the hall. I’m sure he’s fine. But he did just get those shots and has that weird rash. His nose has been running lately, I think those molars are finally…bathroom door is open?! “Lulu! I told you to wash your hands and get out of the bathroom. Auntie Corey wants to finish her shower!” Grab her hands, wash the 3 cups of soap off. Dry them. Bodily remove her from the bathroom. “Sorry Corey! We’re both leaving now. I’ll make sure the door’s shut. Maybe the bathroom will heat back up before you get out…” sniff sniff “Want me to turn on the fan too?” “WAAAAAHHHH AHHHHH!!!” DOM! running to the kiddo room. “OH NO! Dom Dom! I’m so sorry, baby. If I had known what happened, I would have come right away!”
…
Dom had wedged himself behind and under the rocking chair in the kids’ bedroom. He loves to play with the electric outlets back there, so we put the chair in his way. He’s one determined little boy. He wasn’t hurt, but he was genuinely scared. I saw it in his eyes and in the real tears on his face.
There were many times I could have checked on him instead of doing something else. Every moment I’m constantly prioritizing, choosing what to do next. I do my best to prevent injury first and from there promote health and learning and independence.
But, sometimes I choose wrong.
And it sucks.
Because no matter how hard I try, I know it will happen again.
Because no matter what I do, my kiddos will get hurt. Will be hurt. Will hurt others. And, the truth is, that some of those hurts will be the result of my wrong choices. And some days that guilt weighs heavily.
Then I pull my screaming 1 year old out of his confinement, and he stops crying. He grips my arms in his little hands and cuddles my neck. His head hiccups off my collar bone as his sobs turn back to breathing.
And once he lifts his head to look at me, I know that I am forgiven.
I know that all through this parenting journey, I will be forgiven, over and over and over. I whisper a quiet thank you into the top of his head.
And the guilt lifts.
I move forward with my day, trying again to choose what’s best.
Knowing that, depending on my choices, I might just need a new round of that forgiveness every three minutes.
