And The World's Worst Mother Award Goes To....

Me! Well, today it does anyway.

This was just one of those days you wish you could rewind and start all over again. Though it could have been worse and I'm sure we'll have more days like this before it's all over!

Where to begin?

Turner had been waking up a little bit in the middle of the night for two or three nights in a row and I didn't know why. I could probably trace it back to the night that we were watching Gattaca during dinner. Not a scary movie but it was intense and had intense music. Troy thought he was scared though I didn't think so, I guess the fact that Turner's eyes were as wide as saucers while he was watching it should have been a dead giveaway. But I guess I underestimated his ability to understand at the age of 18 months.

So the first night that he woke up I got up with him and slept in the guest bedroom with him for a couple of hours until he could go back to sleep. The second night and third night I got up and held him for a few minutes in the chair in his room and he was fine. But the fourth night we decided it was time for him to be moving past it and figure out how to settle himself. So Troy told me before we went to bed that if he woke up in the middle of the night we would let him fuss himself back to sleep. He said we were going to stick to our guns.

So as we had suspected, he woke up at 11:23 crying. I made a promise to myself that I would give him 10 minutes to cry and then I would get up and get him. By 11:33 he was done crying and I went back to sleep. But not before I made Troy get up to check to monitor to make sure he was okay. I just needed that peace of mind, but I knew if I went that I would not be able to hold my resolve and I would just go get him.

Troy came back to bed and said that he was fine, but he was crying on his back. That was unusual since he's a tummy sleeper all the way, but I didn't give it much thought.

At 4:30 Turner woke up again crying a little bit and Troy decided to get up to check to see if he had peed through his diaper. He has been known to do that in the later hours of the night occasionally.

But when Troy went to check on Turner he soon discovered that he was not crying because he was wet. HIS LITTLE ARM WAS STUCK! Aughhh! Heart racing and feeling horribly guilty I quickly calculate how many hours he'd had to sleep with his arm stuck in between the wall and the rung of his crib. Five hours?!

Troy said that he probably could have gotten it unwedged on his own if he had been a little bit older and could have figured out how to stand up to unjam his arm.

We checked him out and as far as we could tell his arm wasn't bothering him, it hadn't fallen asleep or anything, it had just prevented him from sleeping comfortably on his belly.

So we moved on from that...lesson learned.

The next morning Troy got up to spend some man-time with Turner. When he brought him in to wake me up a few minutes later (by dropping him on my head in bed, as he always does), I noticed he was chomping on something. I asked Troy what Turner was eating and he inconspicuously answered my questions with, "Breakfast". I asked him specifically what he had eaten for breakfast and he answered, "Twizzlers". I guess he was having daddy-guilt so he "treated" him to a special breakfast. Hmmm....

And last, but certainly not least, and certainly the mistake with the most long-term affect...

I was blow drying my hair for church that same morning in the living room so that I could keep an eye on Turner while he watched Sid the Science Kid. He sneaked back into my bathroom and before I could get to him, he grabbed a hold of my flat iron. As I ran in there, he was throwing it down and whining. It made a huge blister on his thumb and a few small ones across his fingers. I guess I should be grateful that it wasn't a curling iron, that would have burned his entire hand! But I can remember burning my hand on my mom's curlers and it hurt so bad for days. So I hated that Turner had to deal with that kind of pain because I was in a hurry and didn't think to tuck the flat iron cord away.

But again, you live and learn. Ughhh!

We got to church that morning (sans daddy because he had to study for the CPA exam), Turner was exhausted from a lack of sleep, grumpy because no doubt his hand hurt, and feeling the letdown of his sugar high.

But he had his Gigi there to offer to "rescue" him and go gaga over him, as usual.

A few kisses, a good night's sleep, some Neosporin and a few Batman band-aids later, mixed in with some special treatment...and he's as good as new.

P.S. Please don't call CPS, I promise I'm a good mama! ;)