I was all set to write about my rockstar mama day today but then I got my comeuppance. Why is that always the case?
I started out the day after having received a lovely gift: Waylon slept for seven hours straight last night, nursed for 45 minutes, and then went back to sleep for two and a half hours!!! Nicole said I shouldn't blog about it for fear of jinxing it but I wanted to write about it so when I'm old and bored I can read these blog entries and know how far we came in only a matter of weeks--it was only 2 1/2 weeks ago when things looked so bleak and now things improve every day. Anyway, the day got better: Roger took Delaney to preschool and Waylon and I had breakfast with a friend. Blueberry and walnut pancakes. Does it get any better?
Next, we headed to Target. I'd fed Way right before we left (I've been proud of my ability this go 'round to nurse in public. I rarely did that with Delaney, mostly because I was unsure of myself. This time I'm a pro, having nursed in at least 6-7 restaurants and public locations in the past few weeks. Go, me!). He should have been sated for a while. But, if I'd been paying attention to the way he's been cluster feeding the last few days (nursing every hour to hour and a half) I would have realized that Target was a little ambitious for today. When he started screaming from his carseat, atop the cart, I knew we were in trouble. I pulled out my sling and popped him into it, hoping he'd go to sleep. No such luck. He was in close proximity to the boob and he knew it. He only screamed more. I'd never nursed him in the sling--the logistics hadn't made sense to me so I hadn't tried it. But, I did what any self-respecting rockstar mama would do. I pulled out my breast, stuck it in his mouth and continued to shop. It's deceptively easy to nurse in a sling while pushing a cart through Target. I doubt anyone even noticed. If they did, I certainly didn't care. Mama had stuff to buy, places to go and the baby was happy.
We followed that errand with a trip to the grocery store to get fixings for dinner. Then we came home, had a quick lunch, ran our paperwork to our tax man and headed off to pick up Delaney from school. I was beaming at all I'd accomplished today. Look at me! I'm a mother of two and yet I can get things done. I rock!
But just as I was patting myself on the back, things got dicey and I was reminded that you can be a rockstar mama one moment and the world's worst mother the next.
Delaney has a habit of running into the street or a parking lot and ignoring our pleas for her to stop and return to us. It's dangerous. It's potentially disastrous. It's not something she does all the time but she's done it enough to take several years off my life for sure. No matter what we say to her, how we punish her, she continues to do it. And she did it again today when I picked her up from school.
My hands were full carrying her brother, her lunch box and the ridiculous amount of papers her two-day-a-week preschool sends home. With full hands I had to unlock, open, relock and close a gate for us to get to the parking lot, leaving me with no free hand to hold Delaney. On most days handling all of this is an inconvenient hassle. But today that hassle could have turned deadly. As soon as I unlocked the gate, Delaney pushed past me and started running. The gate to the lot is located right near a corner where parents drive around to park and get their kids. Some parents drive a little too fast. Some don't look carefully to make sure kids aren't in the street. And some parents are careful and considerate safe drivers. But I honestly believe that even the safest driver, had they come around the corner when Delaney was running, wouldn't have been able to avoid hitting her. Our only saving grace is that there was no car coming around the corner today when Delaney ran out.
My rockstar mama status was quickly cancelled out by the fact that I am unable to control my child to keep her safe. I am at my wits end. I don't know how to get through to her about how dangerous her behavior is. I've punished her. I've talked to her. I've yelled at her. I've pleaded with her. Nothing works. If only there was a rockstar mama school where they could teach me this parenting sh*t. Because, although I have moments of clarity, I really have no idea what I'm doing.