There is no eloquent way of putting that.
I have had an emotional, roller-coaster kind of day today. It started off badly when I cried on poor Joe's shoulder about feeling fat and ugly. Poor guy. Right as he was trying to leave for work. He said all of the right things. Great man. Gosh, I love him.
Then, in a fit of rage and anger over my freakin baby gate that works 50% of the time, I slammed it down on the bottom step...hardwood step, I might add...only to realize a milisecond too late that my baby's little, tiny pinky was UNDERNEATH the gate. We both paused as all the air was sucked out of the room. We looked at each other for a split second and then he started screaming. And then I panicked and scooped him up and started chanting, "Oh, God! Oh, God!" over and over. And I don't say "God" casually like that. I couldn't even look at his finger for a good 2 minutes because I was afraid of what I'd see. You see, injured bones and I have never quite gotten along.
I'm usually pretty calm in a crisis, but this time I just totally fell apart.
I called my mother-in-law, practically hysterical, and sobbed out that I thought I'd broken M's finger. She, of course, rushed right over. My father-in-law came over too. They both looked at the wounded finger and helped to calm ME down. I phoned my friend who is a nurse at Children's Hospital. She was helpful, And then I called my pediatrician's office. That nurse practically had me doing lamaze breathing because I couldn't get my phone number out without crying.
Talk about riddled with guilt.
I have long acknowledged that I have a horrible temper, but today put it in a totally new perspective for me. Now it's not just a problem with making everybody feel bad when I'm in a crappy mood-it actually almost broke my son's finger! And he's only 15 months old! I thouht for sure CYS would be pulling out front at any moment.
But, thankfully, he's fine. He has no lasting effects (it seems) from the ordeal. I, on the other hand, may actually experience some PTSD from this. I'm not kidding. I keep thinking back to it and it makes me jump when I think about it. Poor baby.
So, the crown for Mother of the Year belongs to me today, my friends. It's not the first. I know it won't be the last. And it really sucks.
Go ahead...make me feel better. Tell me your MOTY stories. Quickly.