Thursday, August 15, 2013

Insert Mommy Guilt

 Cooper's first day in first grade.
 Connor's first day of third grade.
 The male portion of the bus stop.
The complete bus stop ready for the first day.

Two of my boys have soccer practice at the same time.  Their playing fields couldn't be farther apart and so I spend the hour floating between the two fields.  The non-soccer playing boys run around on an adjacent playground during practice.

Such was the case on Tuesday night.  As I was running between fields, I gazed onto the playground.  I noticed Connor was hunched over surrounded by a team of parents.  Not good.  

I raced over the playground and found Connor in hysterics with blood streaming down his face and baseball-sized bump on his forehead.

Good Samaritan parents tending to Connor's wounds providing me with the blow by blow.  Evidently, Connor was sprinting around the playground and failed to notice a swing set bar located exactly the height of his noggin.  He smacked right into it, flying backward from the impact.

I took one look at my son and panicked.  I'm not good with blood...or injuries.  I whisked him in the car and dashed him to the ER.  Dr. Dad checked him out and deemed him "fine," but battered and bruised.

Connor continued to cry during the whole ordeal and clutched his forehead in pain.  He whimpered softly, "I wish you had been there.  You would have told me about the bar and I would have never got hurt."

Ugh.  Insert mommy guilt.

The problem is that Connor is one of four kids and I am but one mom. As much as I want to be there with everyone for everything, I just can't.  If only I had a clone, then I could monitor, participate, and celebrate every single aspect of each of their little lives.  I could warn them of every impending harm.  If only.

As I relayed Connor's comments to my mom (feeling a bit like the worst mom in the world), she bombarded me with a host of stories about moms and caregivers closely watching children who still endured injuries despite careful supervision.  She's right.  Even if I had been standing on the playground, Connor could have still sustained an injury.  Who knows?  But somehow that does little to alleviate the inevitable wash of guilt.

Connor looked better the next day.  His forehead was still bruised and bumped but less severe.  He said he couldn't go to school....because of his injury.  Sounds like he's back to normal to me.  Hope I will be too.




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