Bad, bad, bad, bad Mommy

We were about to enter the Toddler room at daycare and in my eagerness to shut the door before any of the kids could wander out, I tried to close it. Then I heard a bloodcurdling scream.

It was Rachel. I had mashed two of her fingers in the door.

She started shrieking and sobbing. I took a look at her fingers and my heart turned over -- they were red and some of the skin had peeled off. I rushed her to the sink and ran cold water over them, even after she started crying for hot water (remember how cold water hurts after a while, but it's necessary to reduce swelling. Or so we've been told).

Then I did the only thing I could think of -- I lifted her up, brought her over to the glider and rocked her for a couple of moments. Then I asked if she wanted cheddar bunnies (left over from last night, and I had stashed them in her lunch box). She sniffled that, yes, she did. I gave her some, and wrapped two miniature Band-Aids around her fingers and kissed them over and over again.

Then I cuddled her close while the nausea rose in my throat. I smashed my own daughter's fingers in the door! How could I be so careless? How could she ever forgive me? I'm a terrible parent!!

She seemed to calm down for a while and I had to get to work (I was already later than I'd wanted to be), so I left. At odd moments of the day I'd think about that awful scream of hers and get on the verge of tears. Then I'd bury myself in work again to make myself forget.

She seemed OK when I collected her tonight, and Teacher Jennifer said she'd been fine today. But tonight she was complaining that her fingers hurt and that she wanted the medicine at school -- she called it Ibuprofen, so I'm guessing they gave her Toddler Tylenol or Advil or whatever they've got. I gave her some Bactine and put fresh Band-Aids on, which I replaced after her bath. She was still complaining her fingers hurt, though.

I told her that I bet her fingers will feel much better tomorrow. I hope, I hope, I hope I'm right.