We were over at their house last night and after dinner had moved to the floor in the living room. The girls had every toy out and were busy moving between the toy kitchen, the puzzles, and the baby dolls. One of JP's dolls had a sound box in her back and I just had to turn it on. You know me, can't leave anything alone.
The creepy little doll had barely enough battery to sustain the weak but never ending cry. It was frightening to me and I was expecting it to make noise. Lucy on the other hand freaked out. She cried and ran to the nearest adult who seemed safe. THIS WAS NOT MOMMY. I made the situation worse by trying to get the damn doll to shut up but in doing so hugged it and gave it a motherly pat on the back.
I believe it was that exact moment that I became Mama-non-grata. Lucy wanted nothing more to do with me for the rest of the night. She sat safely in Auntie Chelsey's lap and played with puzzles but wouldn't come to me. When Chelsey moved closer to me (with Lucy in tow) Lucy simply stood up and went over to the safety of dad. NICE.
I will tell you that I make a purposeful effort NOT to always be the one to run to Lucy's aid when a trauma occurs. If she knocks her self down and Jason is closest he is the parent who provides the comfort. Sure, I want to throw whatever thing I'm doing on the floor, knock over the kitchen table to get to her, but alas it is good for her to know that we both are comforting on a bad day.
Last night though, she was scared and mad. It made me sad to be the source of that agony. She manages to well up with actual tears all the time, but these cut me to my core.
Thankfully, as far as 'things that mommy has done me wrong" lists go, this error in judgement on my part seems to have been forgiven. She was cuddly with me this morning and did not want me to leave her at school. We'll see if she remembers the creepy doll next time we're over there.