(still a) bad mom

I'm sure you recall when I was a bad mom

well having two kids has only made me a badder mom

and maybe moved me right on into just plain bad person territory

por ejemplo

The other day when Sebastian was in the middle of a frantic feeding sesh Julia dropped a toxic bomb in her diaper. She insisted on remaining cozily close to my perch with the feedling so instead of setting myself up for a failure of a diaper-change-while-nursing I sped walked to the bathroom, found my fanciest (and only) perfume and doused the little piglet from mullet tail to sock heel. It merely and poorly masked the putrid but flowery toxic was much better than straight toxic at the time. 

When Julia was Sebastian's age, she was rarely more than a stone's throw away from my person. She even sat in her little bouncy on the bathroom floor while I showered. The tiniest peep was answered with a hearty cuddle and an immediate feed. Poor, uncoddled Sebastian is banished to the upstairs for his sleeping hours so that unless he is clearly and loudly upset, my day is not unnecessarily interrupted.

{that sounds more heartless than I really am...I think}

While this really has nothing to do with parenting...I'll include it because transparency is the best policy in my humankind handbook. A few (or more) days ago someone kindly brought me some Starbucks coffee. I have been rinsing (if time allows) and reusing the cup with lid combo every day since then because Julia is far less likely to dump out the entirety of a cup with a pea sized opening than a mug with a fist sized opening. Gross? definitely. definininitely.

The other day I found an 11 minute (eternity) clip of Barney and Friends on Youtube in Czech. I rejoiced when Julia was completely entranced by the show not because I needed to do anything important like feed Sebastian, bathe, clean or use the facilities. No...I was just desperate to clip and paint my nails (toes and fingers). Selfish sally and shallow hally be my besties. 

And the last and worst example can't be blamed entirely on my conscious self. The second night/early morning we had Sebastian home I was still making the rookie mistake of getting up and rocking him while he ate (now he just gets pulled into bed with me). I groggily fed him, changed his diaper and urine saturated outfit, swaddled him tightly and was just about to put him down when he obviously (loudly) soiled his disposable unders all over again.  I woke Simon up to ask him what I should do...leave him or change him? (answer: silence) and then kind of don't remember the rest. I opened my laptop the next morning to find this exact Google search staring me in the guiltiest face: 

"newborn poops in diaper late at night...can he sleep in it?"

a new low.

a new ugly low. 

it will be a wonder if we're ever blessed with a third ray of poorly tended sunshine.