I get the Bad Mom Award.
It all started seven years ago when I got a nursing degree. I am very compassionate with anyone outside of my family, but within the family, I think it is whispered behind my back that I am a bit of a Nurse Ratched (imagine that!). When I got the nursing degree, I began to think that I knew what I was doing. When I tell my husband when he has a fever, “You're not sick. Get up and caulk that bathroom,” I feel that since I have that RN behind my name, I know what's going on. Perhaps not.
It was a year ago that my son got slammed into a wall while playing indoor soccer. He's young. He's flexible. When he started complaining that his back hurt, I raised an eyebrow and gave him an ice pack. A few months later, I took him to the chiropractor. It helped, but the pain came back. I figured that the kid had never had aches and pains – he just hadn't learned to ignore it. Another month of ice and Advil, and I said, “Okay. I'll get it x-rayed.” I said this begrudgingly, which I am truly sad to admit.
It turned out that the poor boy had a bi-lateral stress fracture of his vertebrae. Bad Mom Award.
Then there was the time my daughter said that she had an upset stomach before going to school. “You're just tired,” the Mom of the Year said. “Brush your teeth.” After which, the girl proceeded to throw up her entire breakfast (and probably the previous night's dinner) in the sink. Again, Bad Mom Award.
And then this week. My daughter had missed gymnastics last week for a stomach ache. I had been lax. I had given in easily and allowed her to miss without so much as a temperature check. So, when she met me after school this week and said that her stomach hurt again on a gymnastics day, my head spun around a couple of times and I said, “You're not sick. You're just tired.” Hm, I sense a pattern here.
She replied with tears and a loud voice saying, “Mom! I'm really sick! Why don't you believe me?”
My answer was, of course, “Quit yelling.” I still didn't believe her.
We made it to the car and I gave in to her squalls by dropping by our house instead of going straight to the gym. “Just take my temperature!” she wailed.
I bared my teeth at the poor child and said, “Okay, fine. But if you don't have a fever, you are going.”
She did not have a fever. I said, “Get dressed. We're going,” which set off another round of “Mom! I'm really sick!”
I narrowed my eyes and said, “Okay. You stay home, but you are not moving off of that couch. No TV. No iPod.”
The girl slept for two hours. She really was sick. Bad Mom Award.
So don't feel bad. You are a good mom. You just might want to avoid my house if you're ever feeling sick. I might make you go caulk the bathroom.
