Pride

On this Mother's Day, I'm proud of the job I've done so far (17 months and counting).

I'm proud of the little girl that lives in our house and follows me around and occasionally drives me crazy.

I'm also proud of how I handled a bad parenting moment yesterday.

We were driving home from the store, as a family, when I heard Girly choking in the backseat. She is still rear-facing in her car seat, but we have a mirror and I turned around and could see that she had shoved her barrette down her throat. I was in the passenger seat, so I yelled at Huz, he stopped the car in the middle of the road and I started to crawl backwards over my seat to get her out. Fortunately, she threw it up as I was loosening the restraint to get her out.

She was fine.

We were all scared.

I felt terrible that it even happened in the first place.

Girly was born with more hair than a lot of 1-year-olds, so she has had barrettes or rubber bands in her hair for months and months now. I know they are choking hazards, so I've always watched her very carefully. I always take them out of her hair at nap time. As she has gotten older, she pulls barrettes out, but has never put them in her mouth. The one she almost swallowed was big and had a bow on it ... if I had thought to be worried, I would have only worried about a smaller barrette.

Instead of beating myself up (which I am prone to do), I'll just have to realize that it was an accident. It could have happened to anyone (and, now, hopefully won't happen to you).

In retrospect, though, I am proud of how I responded. My mom-instinct and mom-reflexes kicked in and I think I just knew what to do. I scrambled over the back of my seat faster than you can imagine. I knew I could get her out of her car seat and do the Heimlich if I had to. (Thank god I didn't have to).

I really hope I never find myself in a similar situation again, but if I do, I feel better that I probably won't be paralyzed with fear.

And that, my friends, is the best gift I could hope for.