The Dawn of Day Three of Ten

So last night, after 6pm, E and I went to walk the dog. We ended up at a sketchy playground that E loves. I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS do a sweep of a new park. I check under the structures for needles and inside any enclosed areas for gross stuff. But I had the dog and he isn't supposed to be in the play area and so I yelled at E to do a quick circuit so we could look at the community garden.

E went headfirst down the tunnel slide and started screaching. That 1.7 seconds that it took me to cross the sand to him, I realized I didn't have my phone to call 911. He sounded really hurt, that scary cry that makes you sweat and run.

Thankfully he had only slid, hands and chest first into human shit. That is right, someone deficated on the slide and my son slid right into it. I was so mad at myself. I mean, this is not the first time someone has shit in a slide/tunnel in a playground. This is what happens in a city that hates children and homeless, they turn on each other. I can't believe I let that happen. I always check, why didn't I this time?

I ran home with him after I pulled off all his piss and shit covered clothes. I threw his clothes in the washing machine and shoved him in the bath. Poor E is so used to me being mad at me that he kept saying he was sorry, and then asking me if I was happy.

By bedtime I was extra wrecked. I just didn't want to fight. So at 8 pm exactly, I just set him up in my bed with all his stuff. I must have fallen asleep 40 times just to be woken up by his movements and singing. At 9 i just freaked out. I started crying and ranting like a lunatic. I put him in his room, put his lamp on and shut both the doors. Earlier that day at Target, I bought some of those "safety door" things to keep him in his room.

Then of course I was too geared up to get to sleep so I went and partook of my newest guilty pleasure, CSI.