It all started with a bed. My son's to be exact. Operating off of three hours of sleep from an interesting mommy night out, I prepared to start Sunday Funday with my babies. Bookoo Bounce was the plan, but at the last minute, I decided to do snoballs and nachos at City Park. City Park playground has become a weekly go to, so there was no reason for the uneasiness I felt. We arrived to the first, second, and third snoball stand to learn that they were all closed due to the Saints game, but we still made our way to the park. Upon arrival, Antonio (Dew) dashed out of the car to the "Big Boy Area," as we call it. This area clearly states that it's for kids between the ages of 5-12 years old, but Antonio has never been intimidated. As usual, Dew began his climb up to the 9 foot slide. I stood near him the entire time because the pessimist in me told me that nothing good can come out of this. But as time passed, the smile on his face told me he was doing just fine. I headed over to a bench and watched from a distance while he ran with exhilaration. My fears of the worse slowly faded as he moved over to the "Kiddie Area" that is marked for 2-4 years old. I watched as he played "it" with the other kids. And then it happened. As he walked up the ramp, he fell through the yellow bars and hit the ground. I ran over to him but before I reached him, he popped up crying, covered in blood. Blood poured from his mouth. I remained calm and began to check him. There was so much blood that it took a minute to locate the gash in his lip. I began to apply pressure and rushed him to the emergency room. After running every red light and avoiding two accidents, we finally arrived, and my child went limp. I completely panicked and began crying hysterically. The hospital staff took over and rushed us through fast track. When Antonio awakened, he was acting completely normal. While the doctors worked on him, the thoughts began to flow. "Why didn't I follow my first mind?" "Why wasn't I standing closer?" "How could I let this happen?" I wondered if I was too tired to be there...to save him. As I sat there and condemned myself, out of the blue, Antonio looked over and said, "Mommy, I love you!" Those words were all I needed to snap me back to reality.
Reality is, I am a great mother. I am a mother that no matter how tired or frustrated I am, I am there. Everyday, all day. I am a mother who was watching my three year old baby lie in the hospital bed and his only concern was reassuring me that he loved me. The reassurance I needed to understand that things happen. Bad things, weird things, devastating things, all happen to good parents. Children will be children. They will be wild, adventurous, and curious. They'll get hurt. And when you least expect it, they'll get hurt badly. But that's life and it's all apart of parenting. So I don't have any cute poems or encouraging quotes to give. Honestly in my current mindset, I don't have much to give at all. But I just wanted to remind all of the parents that y'all are doing well. Stop condemning yourselves for being human. It's normal to feel tired, to make mistakes, and to have bad days. Just keep going and pushing forward. Have that glass of wine, take the day to yourself, and do whatever is needed to preserve your sanity. We have to learn how to be good to ourselves before we can be great for our children.
Now, I know this wasn't the best of my writings or the most interesting to read, but I'm currently experiencing "Lauryn Hill Syndrome." When my mojo aligns, I'll be back. Hopefully, better than ever. Until then, keep keeping on.
P.S. Antonio is doing great. At his follow-up appointments today, his dentist and doctor, both praised him for his strength and quick recovery. He's a champ!