As a parent, you do stupid things from time to time-- like I walk into a room, without thinking through Max's head location and I knock his noggin on the door frame. I have bumped his head on the top of the car, while getting him in and out of his seat, no less than 100 times in his first year. Now that he crawls and walks, I have stepped on his fingers and knocked him over a few times too. Really, it's just super hard to be a baby.
But it gets worse.
While on our way to Indy, Max was charming ladies on the plane. Then as soon as we landed and came through the terminal, my Dad was waiting on Max with open arms. After collecting the baggage, we drove to my parent's house about 30 minutes away. As soon as we walked in the door, my mom snatched him and began playing with him and kissing him all over. Sounds like love, huh? Certainly not child abuse.
Well, here's the kicker- somewhere along the way, Max pooped, and I did not know it. I could not smell it and it was not typical "pooping time" for him. So when I finally changed his diaper- hours after the last diaper change- his hiney was BRIGHT red, with a raised diaper rash. He screamed while I tried to clean him. SCREAMED. And although I would like to blame this on some sort of allergy or ongoing problem, I can not- he is not allergic to anything we know of at this point, and he has never had a diaper rash in his whole 13 months of life.
The worst part? It got more painful before it got better- and it lasted for several day. All because his mean mother didn't change his diaper.
The best part? He had to go around without a diaper so he could dry out and I got these pictures :)
But the child could not get a break. The abuse did not end there.
One day during our visit, my mom and I, took Max out and about as we ran errands. We went to target, and Macy's, and MacAlister's for lunch, before stopping at the grocery store to fill up the pantry. Throughout it all, Max was hunching over funny and wouldn't sit up straight in his car seat, high chair, or the carts. I kept fixing him and tightening the buckles, and he would tuck his chin and growl at me. In my own defense, the child was tired- my Dad makes it his goal in life to make sure that Max doesn't have to fuss for any reason, so he doesn't go to bed until he's ready to just lay down and sleep- so I just thought Max had a bad attitude from sleep deprivation. My mom and I kept laughing at him, and even growling back so that he would growl at us again. (I think this is called antagonizing...)
After all was said and done, we arrived at home, and I went to change his diaper for nap time. As soon as I got his shorts off him, I noticed that there was something in his onesie-- right on his spine... it was one of those HARD, PLASTIC numbers, with SHARP edges, the have a magnet on the back that you can stick on the fridge to spell out things and count. While playing with all the letters early that morning (as in 4-5 hours before this nap time), Max must've dropped it down his shirt. While we were on our errands, I changed his diaper and didn't notice it. So for 4-5 hours, this little, yellow "7" was digging INTO the baby's back. His spine was literally bruise (from my sitting him back up and buckling him tighter!) and he had red indentions all over (from the car seat and me changing his diaper!) and he hadn't cried or complained, he had merely growled.
But let me make this public profession: I, Lauren, felt HORRIBLE about the abuse I heaped on my child. I will do my very best to be much more careful with this precious little man, my favorite punkin pie, the apple of my eye.
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