I Might Be A Bad Mom

Parenting is a humbling experience.  If I have said it once, I've said it a million times.  In fact, just last week I was mentally drafting a funny post titled, "You might be a bad mom..."

If you have ever let your child play with uncooked rice on carpet...you might be a bad mom.

If you have ever taken away a piece of cheese from the dog and handed it back to your child because the fight isn't worth it...you might be a bad mom.

If you leave your child unattended with jelly toast...you might be a bad mom.

But then Saturday I had a not so funny story I could contribute.  We were on our way to a Harvest Party at a local vineyard (...you might be a bad mom), to watch a free concert and a hot air balloon show.  We packed a picnic supper, remembered the bug spray, the sunscreen, and a hat.  Naps, the weather and the traffic all cooperated.  I could hardly believe our luck.

We set up camp and went to explore the fountains, introduce ourselves to the big kids, and check out the hill.  Bennett was walking down the gravel path when smack, his forehead met the rocks.  There was blood everywhere.  An employee witnessed his trip and rushed us to the staff kitchen.  An off-duty medic came to inspect the wound, a 1/4" puncture right in the middle of his forehead.  A goose egg bigger than a chicken's was forming beneath it.  Thankfully, the medic said that the scalp just bleeds profusely and always looks worse than it is.  It wouldn't require stitches, but Bennett wouldn't let us come near him with ice or a bandage. 

After people finally left him alone, Bennett was fine and smiley.  During the drive home, he was busy making jokes about his stinky feet, telling the tale about his booboo.  Mom, on the other-hand was feeling awful.  Twice on my watch, I let my child trip and fall.  Twice, he lost his footing and fell head-first.  My mommy instincts were just a touch too slow to catch him.  I already have Working-Mom Guilt, My Child Only Eats Bread and Cheese Guilt, and now I have, My Child Can Never Have Short Hair Guilt.

At least I won't have I Have Never Taken My Child to See a Hot Air Balloon Guilt.