And How Was Your Day?

By 10:30 this morning she had pinched her finger in the pantry door, crushed three raw eggs between Dolly's feet, "helped Mama" several times by unbuckling herself from her high chair, and gutted the toy cabinet and piled everything on the couch, then had a meltdown and flung it all onto the floor because there wasn't enough room for her to climb up.

Time for hydrotherapy.

She wanted to use her "big girl potty" before bath.
Great.
Hop on... sit... hop off... turn to look. As she chirped,"Enty! Twy agin next time!" she spread her little legs and peed on the floor. Of course, she then stepped in the pee, slipped, and landed on her butt.

As I scooped her up, I slipped in it, and having no other way to break my fall, drove my knee into the side of the tub on my way down to the floor. I managed to catch my elbow on the tub rim and dump her in just as I felt my rotator cuff tear away from the bone.

"It's OK, Honey. Mama's just pretend crying. And pretending to turn pale. No, no. No standing in the tub. You're going to fall-" as my arm shot out to catch her I realized that it was my newly "bad" arm, but it was too late.

"Sit, Honey, sit in the tub... Mama's going to take a little nap..."

Through a haze I heard her voice, "Poopy. Poopy-d. Poopied." And indeed she had. Right between the bubbles.

I somehow managed to pull up onto my good knee and hoist her out with my untorn arm. "It's OK. You stand right here while I clean the tub and your bath toys. Oh! Where did you get that cup of water? Did you scoop it out of the tu-- No, no, don't drink that! That came from the poopy wat--"

"All gone!"

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood