One of my Goodwill finds is a tiny pot that I guess was technically one of Maggie's finds. It is probably one of the loudest thing I have ever heard. And so when Maggie heard the pot and lid bang together, she pretty much decided that she just found her soul mate. With their powers combined, my ears pretty much cry themselves to sleep each night.
Missing the lid, by the grace of God.
As this toy was cheap and required little thought, it was immediately elevated to highly-coveted status among the toddler demographic in our house. Because anytime I think some toy will be totally rad and their absolute favorite thing ever, they of course will just fall in love with the box it came in or the paper it was wrapped in and I wonder why I even try.
So Hannah was playing with this particular pot. Which, inexplicably involved swinging it around her head. And so she hit Maggie in the face with it. And Maggie got a bloody nose. And OHMYGAAAWD, seriously?!
So much suffering in these young eyes.
I feel like my job as a parent right now is pretty simple: keep them safe and keep them happy. And yet there is so much danger and unhappiness everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere. Like some days, all I can think is how medical school would have paid for itself by now in savings on baby and toddler doctor visits. For my relatively healthy kids (ear infections aside, which are still at the non-tube-surgery candidate level, CROSS YOUR FINGERS, I think we are on the verge of another round of antibiotics) who have only been around one and two-and-a-half years.
I wonder if this is the stuff of parenting that I will forget? The loud noises, the bumps and bruises, the feelings of inadequacy and frustration they inspire. And am I OK with that? Because I sort of think I am. I'm ready for the sweet, happy, accident-free memories to float the the top of my mind and fill up my memory space and drown out these less-sweet ones. I know they are all part of the tapestry of parenthood. And maybe these bloody nose kind of memories make the sweet moments even sweeter. But right now, I'm pretty sure I would trade them all for a good night's sleep and a nice, quiet pedicure. Until I can find someone willing to broker such a a trade (at which point, I will immediately feel like a gigantic jerk), I will just have to find a way to be a lot more zen about the crying, screaming, banging and yelling. And also the bloody noses. And the ear infections.