The morning started out wrong, so I should have known that leaving the house, or being in the company of any other human beings would be a bad idea today.  Liam began by not just refusing to eat, but throwing an epic fit, for which he was sent to his room until he emerged 15 minutes later, to let me know, “its okay, I all done.”  Then Finn followed up his iron-enhanced-juice with a nice “spit-up” down the front of his clothes right before we had to leave the house.

We went to the Little Germ, where we then encountered what seemed like a carnival of hundreds of children for mine to push, bite, run into, etc.  Though, they did seem to prefer to do those things to one another.

Upon exiting the gym, to my astonishment, I discovered that Liam can now open the heavy front door!  Trying to escape, not wanting to hold my hand, he pulled me out the door, and several other children tried to escape with us.  Playing tug-o-war with him, trying to keep the other kids inside and hold the door so that several didn’t get squished, and another mother could leave, I was unable to control any part of the circus-like situation.

Liam had pulled really good, and I stuck a foot out to gain my ground just as an 18-month old decided to book it.  He fell in slow motion, and I thought about lunging for him, but would have then risked pinning his sister in the door, and letting Liam get hit  by a car.  He fell so slowly and caught himself with his hands, so I thought I could just continue my hold on the door and the boys…but then he let his head drop!  His mother immediately threw up her hands and everything that was in them, came running, dropped to the ground and began a mental-patient-style chanting of, “Oh, my baby! My baby!  Mommy will make everything better, mommy will clean you up, mommy will fix it!” and cried so hard that the kid wouldn’t stop. 

If there had been blood, this might have been understandable.  Seeing as how the kid ended up with an upper-lip scrape of a mildness that neither of my boys have been so lucky to ever have (except on their arms or legs maybe), I don’t see what the fuss was over.  He wouldn’t let her look in his mouth, so she freaked out more, then he started crying again, and then she saw a little blood.  Really?  Finn’s teeth went through his lip, and there wasn’t anything I could do about that, and he stopped crying a whole lot sooner, and there was a whole lot more blood. 

Seeing the trickle of blood down the middle of his front teeth, she started crying harder, and was convinced he lost a tooth, or was going to.  I suppose there is more to her crying, and it is probably stress-related.  I can understand that, but for someone who over analyzes words, looks, and actions anyway, this really hurts, and tells me that I am a bad mother to have done such a thing to a child and his mother, especially when she is obviously stressed.

I feel like I was driving erratically and hit a pedestrian or something.  I didn’t even know what to do, or how to react, all I can recall is letting his twin out of the door, where her mother left her stuck, and the teacher coming out to serve me with a nasty look and a bag full of ice.  The bag full of ice made things a bit worse too, since the boys were then furiously trying to get at teh ice and the snack cups that the mother dropped.

I have to admit a tinge of guilt, and the feeling that I am a bad mother for not running to my children the moment they cry, or crying because they have a scratch or a bruise, etc.  I am also imagining that the witnesses and the mother are now recalling the event more along the lines of me having purposefully stuck out my foot to trip the child, or maybe even enhancing the story, and recalling that I kicked the child several feet into the air, from which he skidded for several feet,  until his face stopped him.

I stood there with the boys not knowing what to do for what seemed forever, and I still don’t know what I am supposed to do, or was supposed to do then.

Train-wreck Pru