Worst Mother of the Year

It's official. We are only 5 days into the new year and I believe I have snagged the title of Worst Mother of the Year. Just ask #1.

Two years ago she fell out of her loft in a wandering fit of sleepwalking. She fell the six feet to the floor only to land on her clarinet case. It was obvious with the shrieking streaming from her room at 11:30pm on that Friday night that she had broken her arm. It was December (and for those of you that don't live in the arctic cirlce - or Iowa) it is cold outside at 11:30. In a selfish attempt to save a large ER bill so close to Christmas and save some poor doctor from having to drag his butt out of bed, I asked if she could make it until morning if I stuffed her full of the highest legal dose of ibuprofen allowed. She agreed (I admire her need to please). So in the morning I took her to the clinic where they were too busy to see her and I ended up in the ER none-the-less only to find out our family doctor had been on call the night before.

That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, oh no.

Nearly one month ago #1 was playing volleyball and twisted her ankle. Despite her complaining her father and I were certain it was just a mild sprain and that she was just looking for attention.

That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, not yet.

Two weeks ago #1 was playing basketball and broke her pinkie. Oh, yes, it was definitely broken. It swelled all up and was purple. But, let's be realistic. I spend enough time at our local hospital (it's always something at our house) to know that there is nothing they can do for a broken pinkie. So, we taped her pinkie to her ring finger and allowed her to play basketball the next day.

That does not make me this year's worst mother. ...wait for it.

Yesterday #1 twisted her ankle (again) at basketball practice. I looked at it before I ran off to an evening meeting, but let's face it, I have an accounting degree, what do I know about ankles, really? This morning she was still complaining about it and whining that she needed a doctor's note to not have to run in basketball practice. Her father and I relentlessly scour the cupboards for one of the million ace bandages we have acquired through one of our many hospital trips (I'm not lying, we spend a LOT of time there). It would seem that #2 & #3 have "misplaced" them during one of their games of hospital. So Jack assures #1 that he'll call the clinic and see what they have available. I cringe at the thought of paying $15 to see a PA to tell us that she twisted her ankle. Then the call comes...

It turns out she has broken her ankle, nothing serious, just a non-load-bearing bone that will require an air cast for the next 2-4 weeks. And to think, I thought she should just walk it off!

To make matters worse, the doctor showed my husband the x-ray and points to #1's growth plates. He says that she's probably about done growing. I think this news came quite devastatingly to our 12 year-old that only stands 5'1" (I know this because I measured her tonight). Don't get me wrong, the name Stump suits her rather well and I think she's growing used to her father and I cupping our hands around our mouths and shouting "Hello, down there!" Oh,this one won't get old for a while!!

Get your ballots ready folks, I think I've got this year's Worst Mother of Year award cinched.