And the worst mother of the year award goes to...

Me.

The other day, after spending a thrilling morning at Sprouts and Costco (my life is FILLED with glamour, don't hate), we come home and my Sweet P is loudly expressing her hunger. I had switched up my usual milk-stained nursing tank and yoga pants for a sweater, jeans and an actual bra for our outing so I set my crying P down on the bed while I changed back into uniform. As I was washing my hands I heard H come into the room asking, "Where's my baby sister?" then her cries started to sound muffled. H often tries to cover her with a blanket to keep her warm but overshoots and ends up covering a part of her face so I wasn't TOO concerned about his intentions.

Turns out I should've been.

I quickly dried my hands and turned the corner just in time to see my 3 week old infant

fall

off

the

bed

onto 2 pillows and a blanket that were miraculously stacked perfectly to break her fall. Fortunately we have a low platform bed so that coupled with the landing pad, she fell no more than 5 or so inches but I was hysterical nonetheless. She didn't cry any harder than she had been before the fall and stopped as soon as I picked her up so my hysteria calmed down a smidgen but didn't completely go away until I stripped her down and inspected every inch of her pink body to make sure she was still perfect.

Now in H's defense, I didn't actually SEE him push her off the bed but it's either that or our little girl is a baby prodigy and already rolling over. Since the latter is highly unlikely, all contact between H and Sweet P will be under extremely close supervision. Or I need to stop putting her down anywhere other than her bassinet even if it's just for a second.

Lesson learned.

And to think I thought he was adjusting well.



P.S. If child protective services calls me, I'll have a very small group of suspects to narrow down. 33 as of today to be more precise so don't get any ideas. Nobody likes a tattle tale.