MOY, I am not

Well, I won't be getting the Mother of the Year award.

Yesterday while taking B. off the scale for his naked weigh-in at our lactation class, I scooped him up and banged his head on a row of cabinets above the counter. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me with weepy eyes, and for a split second, I didn't think it was bad.

Then I looked at B., he took in a deep breath and I hugged him close to me, bouncing and "ssshh-ing" him. That's when he started to cry. He was so startled by the jolt, he peed all over me, and wouldn't you know I didn't bring a clean shirt for myself. (Payback, perhaps? He said, "I'll show you, Mom!") I peeked at his noggin, and he had a tiny red welt with a little bit of scraped skin. No blood. Just a lot of heartbreak on my part as heavy tears welled up in my eyes.

I know he's going to get banged and bruised as he grows up, but his first little scratch was not fun -- and especially not fun since it was my fault. So every time I look at his tiny head, I keep replaying the event in my mind, wishing I would have taken more care in lifting him off the scale.

Luckily, he's a tough cookie and hasn't seemed to let the bump bother him. He even gave me and C. a marathon smile session last night.

Oh, and as far as his weight, he's 12 pounds even! Packing on the pounds like a champ!