Yesterday I layed down the gauntlet on the way to the park and insisted on a TO from the Fresh Beat Band/Yo Gabba Gabba mix that has been on repeat in my car for weeks, to take a little mommy music time. David Guetta's song "Sexy Chick" came on and I cranked it for a good minute or two before realizing that "sexy" is not necessarily a word I want either one of my girls knowing, or repeating, at such young ages. I turned around, to find both of them rocking out too (it's pretty catchy!) A moment later, the chorus came on again and sure enough she started singing along.

The exact words, per directlyrics.com, are "Damn Girl, You'se a sexy chick." (no, that's not a typo, that says "you'se)

I immediately lowered the volume and then hesitantly asked Lily to sing it to me, to see how much she had picked up.

"Dan, I'm such a cutie."

Yes Lily, you are, such a cutie!

Phew!

PS Why do my kids have food or snot on their face in every photo? Don't answer that!

The following incident took place awhile ago, but it shook me up so much that it has taken me awhile to actually sit down and write it out. I feel that indescribable "mom guilt". You know the kinds that starts with "what if" and ends with "I could never forgive myself." But I feel like I need to put it out there as a reminder to myself and to all moms/parents/care-givers just how quickly an innocent situation can go terribly array.

A few months ago I posted about "some of the scariest sounds a mom can hear" about when Lexi took a tumble down a few stairs. Well, a few weels ago at a birthday party, I saw one of the scariest sights a mom can see.

My little Lexi, soaking wet, screaming her head off, being carried toward me by another dad.

I want to throw up just writing about it.

Just a few minutes prior I had been sitting at a table, talking with the hostess about her mom who had just recently passed away. It was a pretty intense conversation--hospice, hallucinations, final goodbye type stuff. I was holding on to her every word, and holding back my heavy tears.

Just a few yards behind her was one of those round plastic tubs that people use for beverages at parties. Standing around the tub was Lexi and her toddler BFF Theresa. They were scoping out the juice boxes. I could see them over the shoulder of my friend, and I was looking over every minute or so to check on her. In the back of my mind there was something telling me to keep my eye on her because she is such a curious and adventuresome little devil that she might just find a way to get inside the tub, since the crack disguised as a juice box in her hand was simply not enough. But that voice in my head was interrupted by the heatbreaking story of my friend's mother, how she began talking to strangers she had never met and how she waited til no one was in the room to die.

"Same with my dad," I thought.

At that point, a friend of mine who was sitting next to me, the mother of Theresa, could hear our intense conversation, knew that we had this experience in common and wanted us to be able to carry on our conversation, so she said to me, "I have an eye on the girls." With that, I completely tuned out that little voice in my head and I focused in on my friend and her fresh, raw grief.

Simultaneously, the line for the food station began to grow longer, and just happened to form directly in the eyeline to that damned plastic tub.  I don't know how much time had passed from my last glimpse of Lexi, but the next thing I knew I saw a dad, who I did not even know, coming towards me holding her, soaking wet and screaming. I want to believe that it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but honestly, I don't know.

I entered a twilight zone of sorts, where the lines of reality began to blur with the lines of holy shit please tell me this is a really bad nightmare where all the doctors have pig noses.

How long was she in there? Was she head first? What happened? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. And, ultimately, thank God she is okay.

The kind gentleman who picked her up and carried her to me was another dad who saw the whole thing happen. She had been trying to get her leg up over the side, which made her top heavy and caused her to fall in, head first. So yes, she was head first and under the water for a few seconds.

I have recounted this story to several people, including my husband who wasn't there when it happened, but it wasn't until last weekend that someone actually said the words, "Wow, she could have drowned."

I want to throw up again.

"Yes, I know." I replied.

Though the area was full of people, it is very conceivable that a substantial amount could have passed before anyone saw her in there. I would like to think that I would have looked over in a moment or two, but I was honestly so engrossed in my conversation that I don't know that for sure.

Once we dried her off, got some clean clothes on her, and got a lollipop in her mouth all was well in the world, at least in her mind. But I still can't shake that image of her soaking wet and crying out for me. It is haunting me.

The world is full of these near misses. Motherhood is full of these near misses. They happen every day it seems. But they still make me want to puke. It happened right after my post about leaving kids in the car while running in for quick coffee or errand. Guess I won't be doing that anymore. Things can happen so quickly.

I'm gonna go stare at my girls while they sleep. Night Night.

JOY = A daughter enjoying her first dance class:

PAIN: A daughter who dresses herself