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One hand in my pocket....

Well, not really. Rosalyn just had one hand in the door, but the fingers still work, and nothing is puffy. Nothing a little tylenol, a long snuggle and a nap won't fix.

Why is it that somedays I feel like I've got this parenting thing down, and the next, I'm almost screaming OHGODHOGODHOGOD as I notice the increasing shrillness of her cries and then see the pudgy hand in the door. And the tears, oh gods, my heart doth break at every tear I swear.

Suddenly, all thoughts of work, of my life outside of my child disappear, and I am still within the moment, and all I can smell is her hair and the salt from her tears and feel the silkness of her skin. All I can think about is "Is is broken? Can she use her fingers? Will I have to take her to the hospital and be grilled by the doctors about what a terrible mother I am?"

But then Rosalyn looks up at me through her tears, and stares at me with her solemn brown eyes for a few minutes. We lock gazes, and just sit. And something about her look just tells me

"Let it go. You did all this stuff to yourself once you know...you made your own mother's heart stop too"

And I did. And she will yet again.

And she's fine...

Ouch! Hope she's ok. I've done that with a car door - that smarts!

This is good life experience though - sheltered and controlled kids never turn out well. You have to get dirty and fall down in life.

Poor Ros... I'm sure all is well, though. that kid is TOUGH man. I can't get over it!

I am clumsy so I assume Rita will be.

Poor little gal. I hate to see them get hurt.

I'll never forget Rochelle running headlong into an open door. Take a good look at her forehead on my banner sometime.

Oh! I've heard a panicked shriek, and looked over to find Max with his fingers jammed in the doorway. The first time it happened, I totally panicked: should I try and open the door a little or just wiggle his hand out?

Btw did you know that after each comment, your e-mail is sending an Out fo Office reply?

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