Lesson Learned: Never aim for the head

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Hello all. Sorry for my little “hiatus”. Work has been, well, blecky, and I am premenstrual. Never a stellar combo. Add in the perpetual “My Balls hurt” moaning and you can well imagine the joy that has been present in my home. I am surprised they haven’t knocked on my door to do a holiday special.

Some aside notes: Yes, the Doctor has demanded that we have 20 sexual encounters before they can test his sperm sample for being “clear”. Until then, we can consider his penis a potentially lethal weapon.

We tried for the first time last night. I was terrified. I believe that I lay there like a blow up doll. I kept waiting for the whole thing to fall off on me. Talk about pressure.

He relates that he “feels better” today. Yeah right. I can see where this is going.

So today, I offer for your enjoyment, one of My most spectacular failures of mothering I was ever able to muster up. I present “The Day I caused my daughter to have a black eye cause I threw a Bitty Shoe at her in a fit of irritation” or “Why I almost had to call the Child Protective services people (….or me) on Me”

Last winter, Terrance had gone away for a business trip. I generally can keep my shit together for 5 days, then the veneer starts to crack and I look a little wild eyed and crazy.
At this point, I was driving her into school – which was 15 minutes PAST where I work, and then driving back to work, then after work driving to pick her up and then beginning the 45-minute to hour commute home. Since I picked her up at 5:30, I would get home at 6:30 p.m. or so. Not conducive to starting dinner, right? So every night when Daddy was gone, I would pick her up and take her to a different restaurant. It serves an all around need – we eat, I don’t have to cook, everyone is happy!

So, on the Thursday night in question, I decided that I wanted Thai food. I really, really wanted Thai food. Emily doesn’t care for the Thai restaurant cause she doesn’t like statues. We get to the door, she seems the statues and she starts to scream. Loudly. I am smiling at the Thai restaurant people, as my daughter crawls under my coat screaming “No, Mommy, No, I don’t like statues! Please don’t make me go in there!”

I smile at the worried looking hostess and try to say calmly “Can we have a table far, far away from any statues?” My coat is screaming and moving around. I lift the child and my coat and proceed to carry her to the table where I plop her down on the chair and whip off my coat – “See”, I say, “no statues! Calm down!”

We have a fairly pleasant dinner, after I assure her that the Tandori chicken is not the devils food, and that the jasmine rice is quite delicious!

I reward her with a new Bitty baby outfit. It is Blue and Velvety and she is excited. See – Life with Mommy is Fun!

Full and happy, we drive home. It is 7:30 p.m. and so, like Mommy’s all over the world, I am really, really ready for Em to hit the sack. We read, we snuggle and then it’s off to bed for her.

Except this is clearly not part of her plan. Instead, she hits the floor- in a full blown tantrum. She cannot find her new Bitty Shoe. I remain calm.

Me: “Did you check the car, next to your car seat?”
Me: “Emily, there is no reason for you to have this reaction.”
Me: “seriously Emily, you need to calm down – have you looked in the car?”
(There was more screaming at me, that I will leave to your imagination)

Me: (Voice raising) “Emily, I swear to god, that I if I go out to the car and find that damn bitty baby shoe, there is going to be hell to pay. I am throwing every last god damn bit of Bitty Baby shit away!!!!”

I run into the January cold night in my bare feet and pajamas. I whip open the car door and there it is – sitting right there – the blue velvet bitty baby shoe. Right where I said it would be.

I fly into the house and round the corner. I am Steaming mad. Psychotic Mommy Mad.

I throw my child’s bedroom door open and scream


And I throw the shoe in her direction. Now mind you, I wasn’t aiming at her head, really.

But like all moments of clarity, I watch as the shoe flies, in slow motion through the air. It makes a perfect arc and connects with her eye.

GGGGGAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPPPPP. Did you hear the sucking intake of my breath?

My daughter grabs her eye and wails. Oh…………………Shit………………………….

I run and grab her hand and wrench it from her eye. I see the black and blue developing.

Em: “You hit me in the Eyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeee.”

I burst into tears and run for the telephone to call my husband.

Terrance: “Dawn, calm down. Now what happened? You threw a bitty baby shoe at her? You hit her in the eye? Why did you aim for her head? Never aim for the head, honey.”

So, he calms us both down and I apologize profusely to my daughter. She can tell she’s got me now. The Mommy guilt is wafting off of me like 5 day old fish.

But here’s the thing. I have to take her to school tomorrow. I ain’t got a quiet kid. She is about to relate in gut wrenching detail how Mommy popped her in the eye with a Bitty Baby shoe. Her eye is clearly bruised. I am fucked.

I also, at that time, was managing the registry for all those in the state who had been convicted for child abuse and neglect. If the teacher calls in the bruise, she is calling me into….well, me. Double fucked.

So I must do the Mommy walk of shame into the classroom and explain what happened last night in my house. Yes. I have to hang it all out there, since my kid is definitely talking. I get about halfway through the story and burst back into tears.

Em’s teacher hugs me and tells me that it’s all right- every parent in this room has lost it with their kid and done something that they regretted, including her. A hard spanking, an arm grab, a thrown bitty baby shoe. Nobody talks about it, she says, but we all have our moments.

And so, I share with you all. My Moment. My bad, bad mommy moment. And I can assure you; she milks that baby for all it’s worth. If you ever meet her just say “bitty shoe” and watch the story tumble from her mouth.

13 Baleful Regards:

Anonymous said...

I've got one for ya. Now this isn't a 'I lost my shit and beaned the kid with something' story,cause everytime I ever threw anything at a kid,I meant it! (and my mother could throw a book around a corner and still hit you with it,the woman was amazing)

Anyway,this is just a 'I still feel guitly about it 18 years later' story. When my firstborn was about 6 months old,he was sitting on my right shoulder while I held him and we were looking at ourselves in the bathroom mirror (I know...not everyone's idea of entertainment,but he was enthralled)

So I grab a bit of his shirt in my teeth and give a little shake..because I had done it about a jillion times before and he thought it was hilarious. Except that I actually had a bit of skin in there too. OMG. I couldn't even figure out why he was crying till I saw the marks (which faded in about five minutes,I didn't maul him,I swear)

Guilt to this day.

Anonymous said...

Not a mon so i can only relateto what I've experienced around them (namely, mine).

In 5th grade, one night I would not go to sleep. Mind you I wasn't causing havoc (I'm a quiet, polite kid) but I had the light on, and after 3 warnings, my father lost it (I was sewing a button on my shirt to wear to school on the 3rd offense). My Dad, in a fit, got me over his knee and proceeded to whoop my bony ass. Except, as I was telling him, "um... daaaad, I havvvve to to the baaaaaathrooom (sob, sob)". Apparently he thought this was a stall or cease & dissist tactic, and got a few more whacks in....which were also causing my bladder to cry to help....and let loose on his knee. Heh. fucker. And he was still wearing his suit from work.
We have never since spoken of the time I Peed On Dad.

My mom, my teenage years, I could get a little, "flip". I usually didn't sass my mom but at age 13 decided to say something that set her off, and by her look I was dead. She told me afterwards she wanted to smack me across the face. The thing that saved me? It was like the ONE DAY in the 4 years I had braces (round one) I actually wore my headgear, so she couldn't slap my face without coming into contact with a lot of metal linked rather tightly into my jaw.

My bro is 7 yrs younger than me and at timesI had a parental role w/ him. I busted him smoking with his stupid friends in our driveway(he was around 12-13?) and I ripped in to the bad news bears & confiscated their shit. I was SO pissed (I mean, dude, in our driveway?? at least be a sneak about it) that I took their lighter and threw it as far as I could....which landed on my car's hood parked up on the street. Which made a nice dent. *Now* who do I get mad at??

Anonymous said...

My moment hasn't happened yet.

But I hope I remember this story when it does.

Anonymous said...

At least it was a Bitty Baby shoe. Those things aren't too heavy or hard. Can you imagine if it was, say, an American Girl boot?

I am so paranoid about having Big-A repeat the things I say in a fit of anger, now that she can talk. So far she hasn't repeated any curse words, because I've been able to keep my language clean. But that day is coming...

Lisa said...

That entry was so funny. And comforting. I have been really bitchy between furniture shopping/house buying and screwy cycle that I have been snippy to my child. He has been a monster! So thanks..

Cindylou said...

Dawn, fear not all of us mothers have been there or will go there. Be thankful this didn't include a trip to the ER; where no matter what is wrong with your child in the form of accidental injury they treat you like a potential abuser. Having had Owen at the ER three times in 5 years, I know. The repeated questioning, How far awya from him were you when this happened? He was doing what?! Did anyone else witness this? etc. etc.

By the way has hubby realized how they check his sperm? For my hubby this was worse than the procedure. He had a specimen cup and was told to bring in a "fresh" specimen, no more than an hour old. So he did what he had to do into the cup, so far so good. He wa s absolutely mortified when he realized I was not going to bring it to the doc's for him. He had to walk in and hand over the cup to (gasp) a woman. A woman, who as he put it, knew exactly what he ahd been doing less than hour before. He was supposed to get checked again, he has flat out refused to repeat that little escapade.

Table4Five said...

I can totally relate to this. My husband spent a year travelling to different GM sites on business and was only home every other weekend. I lost my mind on more than one occasion, thank God I never had to do the Mommy walk of shame, though.

And thanks for explaining the 20 sexual encounters, 'cause you know Terrance needs us to know EVEN MORE about his penis and what it is doing. Christ, it would take Chris and I a YEAR to have sex 20 times!(Think I'm joking? Sadly, no)

Anonymous said...

Is there a separate division of DCF (or whatever in NH) for Bitty Baby incidents (like SVU but for teen tiny shoes)? I'm sorry, but the words "bitty baby" are killing me. I mean, how would you call that in? "You see, there was this bitty baby shoe...and she SWORE it wasn't in the car...."

Anonymous said...


There is a seperate division for all Bitty Baby and Barbie related child abuse/beatings. The "My Little Pony" and "Disney Princess" folks work closely with them, as they find that the cases are often related.

Diana said...

Dawn- you are my twin! I found you through Real Life 101 and you're one of my favorites!
ANYWAY- i have a short fuse. I will be the first to tell you. My Little Man just turned one, so the episodes have yet to relly begin, even though lately he's been throwing tantrums because he doesn't want to go to sleep. My patience is wearing thinner by the day... so I will probably be posting horror stories like the bitty baby shoe incident, except mine will include Elmo. (Has anyone noticed how hard Elmo's eyes are on the STUFFED elmo's???)

Julie Marsh said...

Dude, we have that Bitty Baby outfit. And Tacy has the matching big girl outfit. Courtesy of MIL, of course. CJ likes to play with the little silver bell.

Poor you and poor Em. That kind of stuff happens. But WE apologize - not sure about everyone else, but my parents never did.

Anonymous said...

Terrance's reaction was classic. You've got yourself a keeper...

V said...

Mine thinks that "bam" and "pound" (from the powerpuff girls) are bad words, but doesn't bat an eye at saying "god damnit". bad mommy. doh! and she gets a time-out if i have to get up and find tragically lost piece of toy-crap exactly where i told her to look. It's pretty effective.

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