I'd rather hoped I wouldn't be writing this post today or ever, really. Alas, here it is. My parenting fails will be on display for the world to see as soon as I hit publish.
This weekend wasn't a good one for my little tykes. Allow me to explain...
I have two boys who cried wolf. One is really, really the boy who cried wolf while the smaller one only is when he's in the car. I've never had children who enjoyed a good car ride. That's a mystery to me. Anyway, usually Baby A will freak out in the car, screaming very loudly and then he'll be inconsolable for (what will feel like) hours. Lately, though, he has been drifting off to sleep in the car which is a welcomed change. Imagine my delight when he fell asleep on the way to the park on Saturday. I was happy because that could free me up to play with K and J swing. We got to the park, kept Baby A in his car seat, sat him down next to the gate around the park and began to swing as Cray K made friends with some other kids at the playground.
Baby A slept sweetly for most of the time, but as we began to leave he was waking up. By the time we had trekked across the parking lot, he was angry. By the time the car started up, he was frantic. Again, this was nothing new so we thought, "He just doesn't like the car. He'll calm down when we get out." Wrong.
We attempted to sit down at a restaurant to eat after that but our sweet, easy baby was still pretty unhappy so we ordered to go and the kids and I went out to the car to wait on the food. I put Cray K in the back of the jeep so he could play instead of sticking him in his car seat and making him cry, too. I got out some crayons and a coloring sheet and he played happily for a few minutes. Meanwhile, I'm finally getting Baby A to calm down in my arms. He stopped crying and actually seemed pleasant. Then, a gust of wind, took K's coloring page up, up, up. Always on my toes, I tried to react quickly to retrieve it. I suppose my spatial awareness was off-kilter because when I turned, I whacked poor Baby A's head on the tail light. It made a loud sound and my youngest crunched up his face in the adorably cute way he does and began his slow-to-start wail. I felt hopelessly terrible. K's art work was gone and now I had harmed this tiny second-born child in my arms. Baby A quit crying pretty quickly, there were no red marks or even a bump, and he was acting fine so I pushed the incident from my mind.
We arrived home with food in hand and we decided we would do a little fishing in the backyard pond.
Before going outside, I remembered I should probably change the little one's diaper. I went to take it off and what did I find? A single black ant. But the rash and bumps on his legs told a different story. It looked like a whole colony of ants was living in his diaper. His little thigh was so eaten up that grief washed over me. I feel absolutely awful for listening to his cries (of pain!) and not thinking much of it. Poor baby had ants in his pants (I would show you a photo, but it would just make you cry).
I guess he got it from me sitting him down in his car seat on the ground. Mom of the year.
Then?
Sunday K's little shoulders turned a pinky hue in the afternoon sun. We were out for such a brief time, I didn't think he would need any sun block.
My sweet boys. I totally failed them this weekend.
I'm sure glad they won't remember! ;)
As always, there were good parts to the last few days, too. J finished up his MBA this weekend so of course we had to celebrate! I'm so proud of him for diligently working on his degree while he parted ways from the Army, job searched, and obtained a great, competitive job. He has been working hard for this family and I'm so grateful God has blessed us with a man like him. Good work, babe!
In celebration, we took a short trip to the beach and REI, our happy place.
Then afterward, the boys slept so I could go on a run. I decided to do a "ruck run" to the grocery store because we needed a few things. I posted a photo on facebook and got a lot of responses- "What's a ruck run?" Chances are if you're husband is or has been a military man, you know what I'm talking about. In the Army they do "ruck marches" in which they pack and weigh their ruck sacks down and march or run for miles and miles in their ACUs and combat boots. I have a whole new respect for them. Whew! I think they weigh their backpacks down with the equivalent of what supplies they would need to survive to practice for situations in which that would be important. I suppose I could be making that up, though. What do I know? Anyway, here's my much lighter "ruck":
I also only did three miles. Still, I felt like a beast!
Then, I totally canceled out all those calories burned by indulging in a deliciously fried meal. My husband continues to impress me with his cooking endeavors. Yesterday he made crab cakes, hush puppies, and cole slaw.
Delicious.
How was your weekend? This is the part where you can feel free to tell me your parenting fails, too.
