I try not to feel too guilty about my parenting mistakes and mishaps. No one is perfect, everyone makes mistakes, I do a lot of great parenting, my son knows I love the crap out of him and I'm always trying to do better, learn more. (And, no matter how much I sometimes want to, I've never beat him. ) I can't really expect much more from myself.
But lately I have been feeling horribly guilty. I've barely been more than a spectator in Kadyn's life and I hate it.
It's been at least a month since I have been able to take Kadyn to the park - sometimes I can make the walk, sometimes I can't and I am too big, slow, awkward, useless to make sure he is safe. He also wants me to play with him - go down the slides, climb the ladders - and that just isn't going to happen, no matter how bad I want to.
Last week I made the mistake of sitting on the floor to play cars with him. The hell with my back pain, I said, I'm playing with my son. Well, my back had a few choice words for me. The pain multiplied by ten, I could barely get myself off the floor and I paid dearly for several days after.
Yesterday we colored together. How bad could coloring be? BAD. Something tweaked in my back and I couldn't stand up. It's the middle of the afternoon, Ryan wasn't due home for at least 3 hours (and was a little more than a hour away even if he could leave work right away) and I can't stand up. That's not a recipe for disaster at all. Luckily, after about an hour of immobility, I was able to get myself upstairs to the tube of Icy Hot for relief, albeit minimal and temporary.
So we can't go out and play and I can't stay in and play.
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
And I could have another month of this.
I don't think I'll survive.
I'm not sure Kadyn has the patience for it, either. Can't say I blame him.