Mother of the Year

For the past 7 years of raising children, I have botched up my Mother of the Year award every year. But I think this could be the year. I have yet to do anything too horribly bad to lose the possibility of becoming a finalist. This might be my year of glory. However, I thought we might recap one of the unfortunate incidents that put me out of the running the last year.
I had just brought my third child home from the hospital. He had a horrible case of constipation. He was miserable. My hot hubby had taken my oldest child to church with him so that left me home with my 18 month old and a newborn. It had been DAYS since my baby had gone to the bathroom and he was miserable. So I decided to give him a suppository. I put him on the floor and began the process – if I would have known this was part of parenting as a teenager, I would have become a nun. I had placed the bottle of suppositories beside me and was awaiting the poop to arrive, when I looked up at my 18 months old. His little cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk. When I asked him what he had I just got a mumble and he looked guilty – AND THEN HE SWALLOWED. I glanced down at the bottle of suppositories to notice it knocked over and empty. I turned over the bottle and it read "If ingested seek medical attention immediately." So, I, being the good mother that I am, called 911. The dispatcher was so nice, she called poison control for me and told me an ambulance was on its way. WHAT? AN AMBULANCE? I, in one selfless mothering act, cried out, "How much is that going to cost?"
No, no…not "Is my child going to die?" or "Can you save him?" or "Should I make him vomit?" Nope. Nadda. None of those things was I concerned with. We had HORRIBLE health insurance at the time and all that I was concerned with was the cost of emergency, life-saving, care for my son.
Now you may be thinking there is no further I can sink. But I will not disappoint you – I sank further. By this time I could hear the sirens coming. I was in an XL t-shirt of my husbands with no bra and breast milk stains…not to mention the hole-in-the-crotch sweat pants. So while I am still on the phone with 911, I sit my 18 month old in time out (so he won't move) and run to my closet to change. I peer out to check on my drug-injecting toddler and there is my baby, lying on the floor in a pool of poop. I had to let the 911 dispatcher go. Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about my helpless newborn, I needed foundation and powder on my nose though…but I was selfless and started cleaning up the poopy mess. Then in walks EMS people, then firemen, then the police chief, then other uniformed officers. They could have been the Orkin man for all I know. There were hundreds of them – okay -- maybe just 25. But still I had to pull my child out of time out for the EMS people to check him out. They immediately assured me there would only be a charge if they had to transport him to the ER. I acted all innocent. Oh a charge? I never even thought about that. Do whatever you need for my son's safety because I a selfless mother who would do anything for her children. Why would money even enter my mind?
Well, he was fine. The only effect was LOTS of poopy diapers. Those things REALLY cleaned him out.
So that was one of the things that kicked me out of the running. Petty aren't they? (If DHS is reading – this was all made up!)