I was a bit of a failure this morning. I held Ben's hand as he walked down the front steps to our house, and I watched his foot loop underneath a wire. I thought, "He's going to trip on that wire," but for some reason my brain would not connect with my body, and I couldn't move fast enough, even though he was holding my hand. His fingers slipped out of mine, and he tripped on the wire, falling flat onto his nose. It ended with his forehead thunking on the cement walkway. And then he screamed. And little spots of blood rose to the surface of his forehead, like liquid soaking through cloth. And his nose turned bright red.
I dropped everything (we were on our way to daycare) and hugged him and rushed him inside, and got his Winnie the Pooh ice pack (a chilled, decapitated Winnie head). I put on his Elmo and pressed the pack to his head while he swatted it away, and he curled up next to me while I examined his pupils and made sure he wasn't getting sleepy.
In actuality, he didn't fall that far. But God it felt like it. It was the first time he'd drawn blood on my watch, and I felt terrible.
After about thirty minutes of observing him, I decided he was okay to bring to daycare, so we brought him. On my way home, a woman in a "non-emergency medical transportation" van jumped in front of me into my lane with no signal, almost hitting me. And then she slowed down. Now this is where my flaws come into play yet again. I tried to get around her because she was going so slow, so when the lanes opened up from two to three, I attempted to get into the third lane. She cut me off again. So I got in the 2nd lane. She sped up, so I wouldn't get past her. I was pissed. I flipped her off. I know I shouldn't do this, but I did. As I looked in my rearview mirror, I realized that this woman was hardcore. She was yelling at me and shaking her fist like, "Uh-uh, bitch, I'm gonna drag you out by your hair and kick your ass." Since she appeared to be the sort of woman who might just happen to have a pair of brass knuckles in the pocket of her white medical uniform, I was just trying to get away from her at this point, and she was trying to get next to me and yell at me. Finally, I exited the freeway, and (lucky me!) she was going my way. As she passed me, she veered into my lane as though she were going to hit me, and finally she sped away.
Meanwhile, I noted the name of her company and the number on her van.
I called her company and complained, but when I hung up, I didn't feel much better. (Although I did feel a little better.) I realized that even though my temper is better than it used to be, it is still really bad. The three of you that read this probably already know I'm pregnant again. What if I got into an accident? I wouldn't forgive myself.
It would be better if once you had a child, your flaws melted away and you became a better person. All Ben got was me, this slow-moving, road-raging nutcase. I'm just going to try to be better next time.