Month 10: Bad Mom

Just the other week I was feeling like the Greatest Mom on Earth. My baby is happy, active, a pretty good sleeper, and a champion eater. I put clean clothes on his back and nutritious food in his tummy -- organic avocado and wheat germ, even! (When he doesn’t spit it back out, that is.) Then this week, everything changed.

First Miles pulled over a lamp and shattered the lightbulb. Glass everywhere. Baby wailing. Mom frantic. I was trying to calm him down and vacuum up glass shards simultaneously, which was tough given that Miles is terrified of the vacuum cleaner. And what if I didn’t find all the pieces of glass? What if he finds one buried in the carpet weeks from now and really hurts himself?

Then I walked into the kitchen today to find our sitter wiping off Miles’ hands and face with CLOROX WIPES instead of baby wipes! I immediately washed him off, then gave him a bath, and later called a poison control hotline even though he seemed fine because I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d endangered my poor child’s life. What kind of mother am I to allow these things to happen?

And there’s all kinds of other, less serious stuff, too. Miles regularly digs his fingers into the tracks of the sliding glass door in the family room, covering his hands with black grime, grit, and God knows what else. He has scooped up handfuls of dirt and wood chips from the potted plants, some of which may have found their way into his mouth. Just the other day he reached his entire arm into the filthy space beneath the stove, no doubt searching for more toxic snacks.

Where was his mother, you might ask? RIGHT THERE, usually no more than three feet away. He’s fast, I’m distracted, he hates being cooped up in the crib or Exersaucer -- the list of excuses is endless. And the result’s the same, anyhow: I feel like a terrible mom.

I also feel like a terrible mom because we’re losing our two-afternoon-a-week sitter soon and I can’t bear the thought of five long consecutive days of fulltime baby care every week without a break. We’re looking for another sitter, but we can’t offer enough hours or pay for most people. Yet another reason to feel bad: sticking my flesh and blood with whatever cut-rate stranger we can find to take care of him.

But you know what? Tonight before I put him to bed, Miles was in a super giggly mood. He was sitting on my lap, poking my nose and biting my cheek and performing all his other baby antics, and I was blowing raspberries on his neck and nibbling his ear, and we were both laughing and laughing and didn’t want to let each other go. For a moment I thought, maybe I’m not so bad at this after all.

TIP O’ THE WEEK: To reach a poison expert 24/7 call 1-800-222-1222. You’ll be connected to a calm, rational expert in your area who will reassure you and get you help in case of an emergency.