It was one of those nights…the nights where you put your 2 year old to bed at 6pm, because you are allllll out of therapeutic parenting. I was assembly line bathing other kids, when Oakley stood up and slipped in the tub and whacked her face *so* hard. Blood came just pouring out of her, alarming all of us. I scooped the wet baby up in a bit of a panic, and noticed the bath water was quite red with blood. A terrified Rabbit screamed, “don’t hurt me, Mom!” Huh? I tried to semi-focus on what was going on with him while I tended to the bleeding one. “I’m sorry, Mom! I’m sorry!” So. Confused. I saw the whole thing happen – there was absolutely nothing he did or didn’t do to cause the accident. And then I realized, as I looked at his glazed over eyes. He was not in this bathroom with me at all. He was somewhere in his past, far away from foster care, and he was terrified. I pulled the second soaking wet child from the tub and held them on the bathroom floor while they both cried. Trying to sooth one with nursing, and the other with talk of the present. “You’re safe. It’s mama Ann. Oakley had an accident. It wasn’t your fault. Everything is okay. See that blue towel? I hear a bird outside!” As he slowly returned to the bathroom floor, where we were all soaking wet, we all sat together for awhile and cried. Sometimes it’s just so very, very overwhelming. Sometimes it feels like you just can’t possibly give everyone what they need….like the time we all cried on the bathroom floor.