In a fit of SheerGenius(tm) while I had my son on the changing table I thought, "He's half undressed anyways, I should bathe the kids." And then in a moment of UtterStupidity(tm), I left him on the table to turn on the hot water.
In the interim, my daughter wet her underwear, and my son fell on the changing table and started screaming his head off.
Two days, many miles on the road, many interviews with nurses, doctors, social workers, a blood draw, urine sample and several dozen xrays later, my son's broken leg was in a cast and we were done with the "suspected non-accidental tauma" protocol.
I had a lot of time to review how we got to the fall. At the end of the day, I'd say it was 2 parts pride and 1 part selfishness.
I like having guests and I really like playing with meats on a grill. And then there's MyAgenda which includes baths for the kids on Mondays, making more granola when I run out like I had that morning--even though I certainly could have had something else for breakfast and could have made more another day, and having a basically presentable house by 6:30 on Mondays when friends come over for dinner or church small group.
I knew when I decided to do bath time right then, that I was trying to be Super Mom. For that matter, I knew when I started doing the granola that I was being a little crazier than I needed to be. But I wanted to be super. To have a list that I could show my husband, "See I do cool stuff with my day too!"
It's pretty devastating to realize that pride can literally come before a fall. Especially when the faller is your cute little boy who has no business bearing the brunt of your inner ugliness.
What is amazing, however, is that I don't have to live in mom guilt. My pastor likes to use the phrase "standing under the waterfall of grace". It's a pretty phrase, but it should be offensive too. The apostle Paul wrote, "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."
That means that even though I screwed up, and I really did screw up, Jesus is not holding a stick over me and I'm not either. I am receiving a forgiveness I don't deserve; it's both-and. I don't deserve it and I am receiving it. I hope that kind of ticks you off.
We're about half way through Lent, charging our way to Easter where Jesus dies for the wretchedly ungodly and buys freedom for prisoners who deserve their sentences.
Hallelujah!
