Worst Mother of the Year goes to me!
(Not completely serious here, but maybe just a little.)
Last month was the scouting Blue and Gold Banquet. It came at the end of a crazy busy day in the middle of a crazy busy week where Bret just so happened to be out of town the entire week. So all the craziness fell to my shoulders. We had to pick Abby up early from volleyball and rush to the church with all five kids so I could let everyone in and help set up. (I had recently been sustained as Primary President in our ward...more on that in another post.) Keep in mind the church is 30 minutes away.
Get there only 5 minutes late. (I HATE being late, even five minutes, and it causes me a lot of stress.) Set up Blue and Gold Banquet. Have all five kids with me during the Blue and Gold including a very tired baby. Stand back and watch as my chocolate mousse cake auctions off for $110 during the dessert auction, highest bid of the night. Help clean up from Blue and Gold. Get my girls from Activity Days and all head to the car for our 30 minute drive home.
Shortly after that Zachary starts complaining his stomach is really hurting. He says he drank too much root beer. He was sitting at a table with all the scouts and was not supervised as to the amount of root bear he consumed. Soon he's crying because it hurts so bad and it hurts to breath. I ask him five different times if he feels like he's going to throw up or if his stomach just hurts. He reassures me it just hurts.
Literally three minutes from home he starts vomiting EVERYWHERE in the car. Root beer and chicken go everywhere. Including all over McKenna who was sitting next to him, up in Grayson's car seat and Gavin's car seat. All over Abby's book bag and coat that was in the bag. All over some piano books of McKenna's that were in the car. And it just keeps coming and coming. The shear amount of volume was unbelievable.
Here is where the award comes into play. Instead of being kind and caring and loving making sure he's OK, I just started yelling. "ZACHARY BRET CRANE, I ASKED YOU FIVE TIMES IF YOU WERE GOING TO THROW UP! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FEELING FEELS LIKE. YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME AND I WOULD HAVE PULLED OVER. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! THE MONEY FOR MY CAR TO GET DETAILED IS COMING OUT OF YOUR ALLOWANCE!!!" And on and on in the same manner. I pull over, he gets out. He's crying and with throw up dripping down his chin and all over his clothes he cries, "Why are you yelling at me?!" But I still didn't calm down. In my mind I'm yelling, "WHERE'S BRET? HE SHOULD BE HERE TO HELP ME CLEAN THIS UP!!"
We pull in the drive way and without being asked or told, the girls get both Grayson and Gavin to bed. Zachary takes his clothes off even before entering the house and gets in the shower. I head out to the car with rags, paper towels, a garbage sack, cleaning supplies and a head lamp. 45 minutes later I come back in the house. The girls had completely picked up and cleaned the downstairs. The had put every one's dirty clothes and shoes that had throw up on them in the washing machine. McKenna had taken Zachary a throw up bowl just in case he needed it in the night. As I'm standing at the sink working on a carpet from the car McKenna says sweetly, "Mom, I feel really bad for Zachary. I think you should go apologize to him."
I told her she was right, that I definitely needed to do that. I went up stairs to check on Zach, tuck him in and tell him how much I loved him. He was sleeping. That conversation had to wait till morning.
Bad parenting night where I was just completely at the end of my ropes. And I learned so much from my daughters that night. I was so grateful for their goodness. For seeing what needed to be done, rolling up their sleeves and doing it. For recognizing that mom needed a lot of help. For showing compassion and love.
Shortly after that Zachary starts complaining his stomach is really hurting. He says he drank too much root beer. He was sitting at a table with all the scouts and was not supervised as to the amount of root bear he consumed. Soon he's crying because it hurts so bad and it hurts to breath. I ask him five different times if he feels like he's going to throw up or if his stomach just hurts. He reassures me it just hurts.
Literally three minutes from home he starts vomiting EVERYWHERE in the car. Root beer and chicken go everywhere. Including all over McKenna who was sitting next to him, up in Grayson's car seat and Gavin's car seat. All over Abby's book bag and coat that was in the bag. All over some piano books of McKenna's that were in the car. And it just keeps coming and coming. The shear amount of volume was unbelievable.
Here is where the award comes into play. Instead of being kind and caring and loving making sure he's OK, I just started yelling. "ZACHARY BRET CRANE, I ASKED YOU FIVE TIMES IF YOU WERE GOING TO THROW UP! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FEELING FEELS LIKE. YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME AND I WOULD HAVE PULLED OVER. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! THE MONEY FOR MY CAR TO GET DETAILED IS COMING OUT OF YOUR ALLOWANCE!!!" And on and on in the same manner. I pull over, he gets out. He's crying and with throw up dripping down his chin and all over his clothes he cries, "Why are you yelling at me?!" But I still didn't calm down. In my mind I'm yelling, "WHERE'S BRET? HE SHOULD BE HERE TO HELP ME CLEAN THIS UP!!"
We pull in the drive way and without being asked or told, the girls get both Grayson and Gavin to bed. Zachary takes his clothes off even before entering the house and gets in the shower. I head out to the car with rags, paper towels, a garbage sack, cleaning supplies and a head lamp. 45 minutes later I come back in the house. The girls had completely picked up and cleaned the downstairs. The had put every one's dirty clothes and shoes that had throw up on them in the washing machine. McKenna had taken Zachary a throw up bowl just in case he needed it in the night. As I'm standing at the sink working on a carpet from the car McKenna says sweetly, "Mom, I feel really bad for Zachary. I think you should go apologize to him."
I told her she was right, that I definitely needed to do that. I went up stairs to check on Zach, tuck him in and tell him how much I loved him. He was sleeping. That conversation had to wait till morning.
Bad parenting night where I was just completely at the end of my ropes. And I learned so much from my daughters that night. I was so grateful for their goodness. For seeing what needed to be done, rolling up their sleeves and doing it. For recognizing that mom needed a lot of help. For showing compassion and love.
These pictures have nothing to do with the root beer throw up incident. But they are of Zachary planning and making a Sunday dinner for one of his scout requirements.
1 comment:
Em I think you are amazing! I don't know if I could have done all of that with such a crazy week! What amazing children you have, they learned that kindness from somewhere! :)
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