Accidents happen

Yesterday, Baby boy burned himself playing with the iron I was using. I thought I put the iron out of his reach but I must have underestimated his ability to stretch his body to go for objects out of his reach. What happened is that the iron still hot fell on his hand and burned him. He cried and I tried to soothe his pain by applying cold water on the wound.After a trip to the doc,he is doing fine. He just needs to have his hand cleaned and treated with a cream for a while.
Accidents happen. This was a major one. It scared the "s..." out of me, excuse my French. I was warned since Little Prince was crawling and cruising, that I should pay more attention to him. I should put all dangerous objects out of his reach, avoid carrying hot foods or drinks around him...blah,blah,blah...
I was being careful because I am the last person who would want something terrible to happen to my Baby. But accidents happen.
Baby Boy already fell many times from my bed where he was sleeping. He knocked his head more than twice on our coffee table; he bumped his skull on the floor, he even managed to jam his hand inside one of our cupboards.
You may ask, why we did not baby proof our house or at least buy a small play yard to put him in? Well,the answer is simple, I come from a place where we do not baby proof, period. In my house, my Mother made sure that her children were safe, but it was not by putting gates on dangerous places or put locks on cupboards. She put dangerous things out of our reach, and she let us go to the adventure. Only when you let children free to discover the world around them, that they can learn and bloom.
I am not sure Little Prince learned from this accident. But I sure did learn something: never to iron near him again...

Blame the baby

My husband asked me this morning what happened to the book about "Babyhood" I wanted to write. Well, like other projects I want to accomplish in my life, it will have to be put on hold. The reason: I am too busy with my baby to do anything else. Or at least, that is what I tell people around me.
But this is a big fat lie. I am lying to my family and friends, but most importantly I am lying to myself.Ok, it takes time to take care of the baby, but if I set my mind to it I can do all the things I want to do.
However it is easier to blame it all on Little Prince: like how I cannot clean my house to the fullest because he is so attached to me. Or like I cannot write more emails to my family because he wants to play with my computer. I cannot go out, work out, learn how to drive, or work...
The truth is that I am plain lazy. Lazy to shake my ass and go get what I really want in life. I am a failure, and it is easier to blame my lame life on motherhood.
I rather watch TV all day, or lie down watching the time pass by than bracing the real world. I would rather pretend that Baby Boy is the main reason why I have not accomplished anything that important in my life yet.
If I do not brush myself off and get on with my life (actually starting to do something like learning how to drive, get a job), I will end up being an old and bitter woman with nothing to call her own, and envious of the one who made it around herself. Worse than that is that I will keep on blaming the baby who is no longer a baby.