Do you sometimes wonder if you are a bad mother? Just read on and wonder no more.
Last week, I was running on the treadmill when Shelley woke up. Brady happened to be home for an afternoon break, so he brought her into our bedroom while I finished the last few minutes of my workout. First, she was sitting happily on our couch watching me sweat like a pig, running nowhere. Bored with this, she decided to play with our computer (or should I say on?). Fine, fine -- I just wanted to finish my workout.
Well, next thing I know she's got an OPEN PERMANENT MARKER heading toward our couch. Immediately, I slam the STOP button on the treadmill and hurdle over our bed to reach her. Unfortunately, my shoe gets twisted in our unmade bedspread and I fall directly onto my hurt knee. I wince and cry out in pain. I could hardly move. I try to move my leg manually, but I cringe and cry some more.
In the midst of my agony, I look up and see my sweet Shelley standing near me with tears in her eyes. She's really sad for me -- and probably a little scared, too. So I say, "Shelley, come here." When she hesitates, I say again, "Shelley come here, sweetie." She walks gently toward me and I...
...reach out and take away the open permanent marker! (Of course I gave her a hug next, but does that erase my callous first thought?).
If that weren't enough, I have yet another confession.
My kids have been waking up promptly at 5 am here in Utah (7am Florida time). When I choose to wake up at 5 am, I am almost bearable after an hour. But, when others beat me to the punch -- watch out -- they usually get the punch instead!
So, a few days ago Shelley and her cousin, Fox, were running around the family room while Caroline and I tried to catch a few more winks of sleep (this is perfectly acceptable behavior for exhausted mothers). I look up to see Shelley coming down the last few stairs from the kitchen. The next thing I hear is a small thud -- meaning she probably only fell down the last one or two stairs onto the incredibly plush carpet. And what do I do? I say, "Oh Shelley, you fell down. Come here and let me hold you in bed." And, like the well-trained daughter of a lazy mom, she did.
My gift to you today: the wonderful at least-I-didn't-do-that feeling. Enjoy!