It has been 3 days since “The Incident” and the trauma has not yet fully dissipated. Yes, my rebels – it happened. The moment I’ve been dreading since the day I found out that baby no.2 was en route. The moment I have diligently avoided by calling in the troops and ensuring that all hands are on deck – helping me to supervise, to love, to keep alive, and to not lose my shit on the 2 tiny humans I’m responsible for raising. But on Monday, it went down. And it wasn’t pretty…

The day started innocently enough. I did what I do every morning: I got up at 6am with my newborn, strapped him into his sling (which, I’ve discovered is basically baby Ambien) and made/consumed a cup of coffee in peace while scrolling through Instagram and checking Facebook – standard (I like to have at least an hour of quiet before my energetic toddler wakes up and it’s officially go time).

I had an errand to run in my neighbourhood that involved about a half-hour of walking, so after milk had been drank, breakfast had been eaten, diapers had been changed and a variation of last night’s pyjamas had been put on, I ventured out with baby in his stroller and toddler “helping” me push it. The walk was seamless. I remember actually thinking how awesome it was that I didn’t have one of those toddlers who required a leash. No, mine is calm and obedient. He stays close to mommy and we chat about the cars and the bikes and the birds that all buzz up and down our street… what an angel I have….

This is an excerpt from the article THE INCIDENT which originally appeared on The Rebel Mama.