Crabby-Pants Eli

Eli: 0
Couch: 1

Eli is not the most graceful little boy by any means. Only a daily basis he has been known to trip over his toes, fall over rugs, and get hopelessly tangled up in his own legs. I think that any sort of dancing is out the question for his future. But the other day, Eli took a spill that sent chills up my spine and the phrase “bad momma” running through my head.

There we were, folding laundry and playing on the couch. I’ll let you figure out who was doing what. Dad-oo had run to fill the car up with gas for our afternoon trip to see family and pick up some eggs so I could finish baking the lemon bars I was bringing. I had just set down a pair of freshly washed jeans when suddenly, Eli who was playing on the couch behind me, is on the floor. Crying. No, screaming. And he landed on his head. This is not the kind of fall that he can just “brush off.” I scoop him up, cuddle him close, and walk through the house whispering “you’re OK” over and over, secretly hoping that he is actually OK. There isn’t a bump, no blood or other signs of a serious injury. And he calmed down after a few minutes of crying, then started saying “Couch, ouch!”. He’s going to be OK. But am I?

I hate when things like this happen. The Mommy Guilt sets in, and I start to question my skills as a parent. I should have been paying more attention, but I was distracted by the laundry and recovering from my 6 mile run that morning. I should have been playing with him instead of doing chores. I should keep my eye on him every second of every day and this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. If I was a good mother I would never let him out of my site. If I was a perfect mother, he would never get injured. Oh, if only I was perfect.

But I know deep down that it isn’t realistic, or healthy for me or Eli, to strive to be a perfect momma. Can you imagine how Eli would grow up with his momma behind him every step of the way? Can you imagine the shock to his system when he went to school and momma wasn’t there to stop him from scraping up his knees on the playground? To stop the older kids from picking on him? Bumps, scrapes and bruises are just part of growing up, and as much as I hate it, Eli is going to get his fair share of them. So for now, I’m putting aside my goals of being a perfect momma, and I’ll just do the best that I can. There will be tears and tantrums, falls and head bonks. There may even be a golf club to the head by a sibling, not that anything like that has ever happened in my family before.

Note: the photo of Eli crying was NOT taken at the time of the fall. It was one that Dad-oo took a few days earlier.

7 Month Old Eli During Bath Time

After a long day at work and a quick workout at the Y, I rushed home to see Eli for for first time since this morning. But instead of the heart-melting, smiling face rushing to greet me at the door, I’m welcomed home with tears. Not just tears, but over-the-top, uncontrollable toddler tears. And there’s Grams, with a bewildered, get-me-otta-here look on her face.

As sometimes happens, Eli falls asleep at the inconvenient time of 6:00. It’s too late for a nap, but too early for bed. After an early morning with Momma, much playing a running at daycare, and a Dad-oo on the road, Eli has just about had enough, and needs a little catnap. Which would be fine, but when he wakes up from this catnap, out comes Crabby Pants and the tears.

After trying the usual happiness-inducing tricks, “Eli, look at the puppies!”, Hippo, graham crackers, juice, and yes, even chocolate, I threw my hands up in the air, and decided that it was bath time. Hoping, with tears in my own eyes, that it would create enough of a distraction to pull Eli out of his downward spiral into Crabby Pants USA.

The rushing water, rubber ducky, baby wash and two crazy pugs running around in a frenzy were enough to grab Eli’s attention, and stop the tears. And then, suddenly everything falls into place. The water is ready. The toys have all been tossed into the water. There are bubbles floating in the water. The toddler is naked. And happy. HE’S HAPPY!!!! I have reclaimed my easy-going, happy-most-of-the-time child.

It’s amazing how some so simploy-brilliant can take a Crabby Pants toddler and turn him in to the sweetest little boy in the world. We went on to have a fantastic night, a great dinner (he even tried some corn!!!) and a painless bedtime. Thank you bath time, you saved the night.