Day 189: "I am a good mom, I am a good mom..."

Well, it's Day 189 of life with baby, and Day 10,189 of renovations. Or at least that's the way it feels. We have been renovating endlessly since we moved into the house last summer. And when I say "we" I mean my husband. I don't really do any of the work, not because I don't want to - although, this is also true - but because Fernando won't let me. This is not an act of chivalry on his part, but of fear: the thought of me wreaking havoc with a hammer or paint brush gives him nightmares. If I really want something to get done I just mention casually that I plan on doing it myself ("Honey, I think I'll paint the nursery, I'm going to start on it tomorrow!"). He's running for the toolbox before the words are even out of my mouth. It seems that some guys have the fix-it gene and some don't. I'm lucky because Fernando definitely does. So he does the hard labour and Maddie & I just sit in the chaos of it all.

Maddie had her first accident to speak of on the weekend. I should probably keep these sorts of incidents to myself, but the point of this little journal of mine is full disclosure and brutal honesty, so here goes... We put her down to sleep at a friend's place during dinner and she rolled off the bed and onto the floor. And yes, I now know that she shouldn't have been on the bed. Believe me, it's been noted. If I'm sounding kind of nonchalant about the incident, let me assure you that at the time I was a wreck. I think it's a lingering souvenir from the postpartum trauma that my coping ability is at an embarassing low these days. I would think the measured response to your baby falling from the bed would be something like this: "Is she okay? Poor baby. We mustn't leave her on the bed anymore." Instead, it took me about 4 seconds to conclude that I was the most terrible/irresponsible/idiotic mother on the planet and I should probably call child services to report myself. Then again, maybe that is the "normal" mom response? Maybe it's just the old post-pregnancy crazy hormone at work. Having since talked to other moms, though, it seems that their babies have not only fallen off of the bed at some point, but off of change tables, countertops, down flights of stairs, out of moving cars. Apparently it's some sort of rite of passage I wasn't aware of. For her part, Maddie seemed mildly surprised to find herself suddenly on her stomach on the carpet, but other than that she was fine. Thankfully. Meanwhile, I am monitoring her every move for the slightest sign of brain damage ("Why is her left pinky finger bent like that?? She's never done that before! Call the doctor!") This motherhood thing is exhausting.

I saw a funny-ish commercial this weekend on the Life Network. A group of moms are making self-affirming statements, my favourite of which is "I am a good mom even though I send my kid to school with his lunch packed in a plastic liquor store bag" (that is so going to be me). Anyways, I think I need to start doing this to ease my various feelings of guilt: "I am a good mom even though my baby rolled off the bed onto the floor," "I am a good mom even though I put General Hospital on during playtime instead of Sesame Street." Hmm, somehow seeing these statements in print is not doing much to make me feel better...

(Nothing to do with parenting, this is just for fun, for those so-inclined: Here is the footage of a much deserved Fox News ass-kicking, courtesy of Bill Clinton this weekend. I heart Bill Clinton. I can't help it, I do.)