Unfortunately, a nap was not in her cards since we needed to pick up her brother and head over to the grocery store to pick up our film and a few things for lunch and dinner. That's where Trauma #2 took place. I had just buckled her into the front seat of the cart, and she was playing happily with my purse strap, when she bent forward and smashed her mouth on the shopping cart handle. And by bent forward, I mean slammed her (teething, aching) mouth into the germ-ridden, hard plastic and metal handle. More screaming, this time not so easily assuaged, but no blood. I ended up carrying her through the entire store while I let The Boy push the cart (for which the store stockmen are eternally ticked, I'm sure, since he must have crashed into no fewer than 8 end-cap aisle displays).
We made it through the store quickly, and were almost safely ensconced in the van, when Trauma #3 went down. Perpetrated by me. Again. I was so worried about The Boy not getting into the van and running out into the parking lot (as he is wont to do), that I misjudged the proximity of Baby Girl's head and the side of the van. You can see where I'm going with this. She sustained another blow to the head, and proceeded to cry long, gulping sobs punctuated with "Mami" (yes, my daughter calls my name with a Spanish accent. I don't know where it came from, but I hope she does it for a long time).
I don't think they make enough superlatives to describe how awful I felt. I felt like the hugest jerk. Ever. Which, instead of making me sweet and extra-loving towards my children, has just the opposite effect. I turn into a totally grumpy, jerkier jerk-face. Rob learned this a long time ago, and it has served him well over the years. It takes a lot to live with me, people, it really does.
This day just seems to be the icing on the cake of this weekend, with its home improvement projects gone awry, and our big disappointment over missing my mother-in-law's birthday brunch at a swanky restaurant. They even had a chocolate fountain. An entire, free-flowing geyser of liquid ecstasy. I was planning on just passing my coffee cup under the fountain and skipping the fruit that one is supposed to dip into the chocolate. But my dreams of chocolate overdose were dashed by inclement weather. The trip between here and New York would have been a little tricky, to say the least, even though I was sorely tempted to go anyway, you know, for
The combination of all the frustrations of the weekend, and this inauspicious start to the week, have made me a real gem of a wife and mother. The cloud of bad luck finally seems to have passed over Baby Girl, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And I'm keeping my distance once Rob gets home.