Ever have a day that you're so tired you can't think straight? Mine happened a few nights back. It's one thing for me to be confused, but it's particularly unsettling when I am in charge of two other lives.
Dropping the ball on the light bill? It happens. Dropping your child? Quite another. I didn't do that, but... I may have inadvertantly bumped Stink's head against the door while reaching for a dropped toothbrush. And while cooking that evening, I might have scared him when my chopping knife slipped through my hands - too close to him for comfort - causing me to shove him a bit forcefully out its path.
That night, while going to sleep, Stink lay in my arms, his back against my chest. (Translation: he got to put off going night night by suckering me with his sweet voice.) There in the dark, with the glow of the moon through his shutters, and the breeze fluttering through the two open windows, I commented on his uncharacteristic sullen mood, prompting him with, "Stinky, are you sad?" "Yes" he muttered, real tears starting to spring. "What made you upset?" I asked, hugging him closer to me. He replided, "When Gianni wouldn't share his truck with me at school... And when you shoved me against the door... and when you hurt me with the knife."
Wow. I'll take Social Services for 400?
I explained to him that Gianni probably didn't know how important that truck was to him. And how it wasn't my intention to bash his skull against the door. (Hell, the handles are new... why would I want them dented?) And the knife deal? I apologized for my clumsiness, but explained that I didn't want him hurt... I can barely chop garlic. His fingers are hardly more appealing.
He went on to hug me and say "That's okay, Mommy. I know you don't mean to crash my head in doors or slice me."
Not sure whether to laugh or cry, I passed some gas. Discreetly. Or so I thought. But he suddenly bolted away from my body, throwing himself on his pillow, shrieking, "Mommy, I don't want to lay in your fart! Please don't do that!"
No smashing heads, no cutting, no rippers. Who'd a thunk motherhood would be this hard?