My little boy bled for the first time tonight. I know this is the first of many times he is bound to get a knock or bump, but my baby, MY BABY, had blood on his little lip tonight. He is in that stage of pure innocent independence where he has just figured out both how to pull himself up on things, and how to fall safely without doing any damage. He has become both fearless and reckless in the span of a week. Every day in the past two weeks I have been finding myself looking forward to what each day will bring, what new trick my boy will show me he has learned. He is all wonder and joy and happiness and fun.

So being the total control freak that I am, I do bedtime every night. And I’m not exaggerating. I am the one to bathe him, massage him, sing to him, feed him and put him in his bed each and every night. Same routine, always consistent. Tonight, though, I brought him upstairs and undressed him while Daddy ran the bath water. I brought Max in the bathroom and stood him up to the side of the bath because he loves to watch the water as it runs out of the faucet. But of course, me being me, I couldn’t just trust that my husband could correctly fill a bathtub with 4 inches of appropriately warmed water. No, I had to pass off the baby so I could do it myself to make sure everything was “right” – and by “right” I mean the way I would do it.( I know, I know, I’m rolling my eyes at myself right now.) So of course I say “Hold on to Max” before I take over bath duty, and it is at this exact moment that all hell breaks loose. And by “all hell” I mean my wobbly legged baby, who likes to think he can do so much more than he actually can, bashed his chin down on to the side of the tub. As I wrenched my boy from his Dad’s arms I legit said “I TOLD YOU TO HOLD ON TO HIM!”. Yup. Psycho. I said it. Because of course I wouldn’t have let this happen. I would have known to be prepared for when his legs drop out from under him because I do this all day, every day. And because I know how to DO THINGS RIGHT. I took my sweet sobbing little baby and I walked away, telling him gently that it was ok, while his little arms clung tightly to my neck.

Fast forward five minutes later. Max was playing happily in the tub. There was no visible cut and the tiny smear of blood never reappeared. My calmer and more rational self knows that this could and will happen many times and probably mostly when he is with me. This more sane and rational side also knows that our Daddy is a good one and doesn’t deserve a psycho beast staring him down like he purposely intended for our baby to do a nose dive into the side of a bath tub. But it’s a battle, you know. I remind myself to stop every day. To just stop and know that just because something isn’t being done my way, doesn’t mean it’s not right. The outcome is still the same, right?  A healthy and happy baby who is still going to thrive even though things didn’t follow Mommy’s rigid life plans right to the letter. Being in control was just a funny fact I knew about myself before. I labeled all of my office supplies at work with my name so nobody would steal them. (Major eye roll.) But since Max has come along, this control freak knows no end. My need for consistency and order are constant. All with Max’s well being at heart now mind you, but a control freak in her element nonetheless.

Which brings me to where this whole post got started, in truth. A very close friend of mine found out her son had been in a terrible accident recently. When she found out, she had no way to know he was ok, that he would be fine, and she was quite a distance from him. She had no control over the situation. I put myself in her shoes as the hours passed, knowing she waited to see her child, to just know if he would be ok. I couldn’t fathom the idea. This was her BABY. Even when they are grown, they are still that little tiny treasure with their arms wrapped tightly around your neck. It literally scared the crap out of me that some day I will have zero control over the decisions he makes and just have to hope like hell he takes care of my most cherished love. At some point I am going to have to let go and cross my fingers that Max gets it. That all those things we preached and taught him year after year sunk into his perfect little blonde head. I hugged my baby so tight that night. We said a prayer. I loved him so hard because it hit me that these blessings are just that, and are not to be taken for granted. I am totally blessed.

So- I am one hundred percent sure that this control freak will continue to stick to my rigid daily routines because it’s who I am. I will continue to force myself to remember that MY way is NOT the only way. And I will continue to love Max so damn hard and hold on to these moments while I can. Even when it is a little bump and a cry in Mommy’s arms. I’ll hold him a little tighter those times too, knowing he’s ok, and it’s really more for me than it is for him.