Oh, boy. What a crappy day. We were about to board the bus tonight when J fell, catching the first step on the bus between his upper lip and his nose. He started screaming, and blood began pouring out of his nose. All I could do was hold a wad of tissues to his nose and try to reassure him that everything would be okay. When the bleeding stopped, we hailed a cab and came home.

I gave J some ibuprofen and a cold compress, and we huddled together on the couch until he said he wanted to eat. He fell asleep on the couch while I was getting his dinner, and then he woke up and ate a big meal. He took a bath and went to bed, and I'm sure he'll be fine. My poor little guy! I don't remember the last time I saw him cry like that.

I knew I had to call J's father and tell him what had happened, and I didn't want to because I knew he would freak out and blame me. I called anyway, and he did freak out and blame me. First he thought I was trying to board a MOVING bus with J. (Doesn't that seem like something I would do?) Then, he thought I wasn't holding J's hand. Then he began to lecture me about being more careful, holding on to J more tightly, etc. I got so angry, I just started to cry and cry and cry.

I don't take his rebukes to heart, because I think I'm a good and careful parent and I know that things just happen no matter how vigilant we are. I just get furious, and then I get terribly sad. Why, in the first place, did I get together with someone who lashes out at me when things are difficult instead of trying to work with me? Someone who is incapable of empathy? Someone who doesn't think twice about making me feel worse when I feel bad already?

Every time I deal with J's father, I'm reminded that I've been very, very stupid. I know you only have to get it right once. But wouldn't you think that a thirty-five-year-old woman would have gotten it right once already?

Well, in this case you'd be wrong.

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