My Son, the Englishman

I was reading a blog post, then left a comment, read another comment that someone else left and clicked on the link to read that person's blog. After doing this 2 or 3times, I ran across a blog post that struck a chord. Only I lost the blog! I wanted to link it to this post so the blogger who wrote it would know she wasn't the only mom who misses things in her kids' lives that she should have caught. I told her I would post about my "Bad Mommy" incident so she could laugh at my idiocy. I hope she tracks me down and I hope all of you will feel inclined to share your "Bad Mommy" stories so we can all laugh and remember that we are not perfect and that kids are prone to exaggeration, which means we don't always take what they say seriously (phew...long sentence). Doesn't mean we're bad moms, just means we have a lot on our plates and if our kids wouldn't whine and fake crap so often, maybe we'd pay attention the first time!

Okay...on to my own stupid incident, which I like to chalk up to being a first time mom. It makes me feel better, okay?

My oldest son, Big Brother, is a really docile kid. Especially when he was a little guy, he was so calm and happy and just a joy! And he talked a lot. And it was just deliciously cute. He said the funniest things. He heard his dad yodeling (or trying to) one day and for weeks after that he would walk around going "doodle-deeedle, doodle-doo...it was freaking awesome and of course I thought he was a gall-darn genius.

Sooooo....one day he walks in and starts asking "Where's Daddy?" with this funny little English sounding accent. Immediately I was like, "Oh my gosh! That is so cute! Say it again!" So he asks again, "Where's Daddy?" with the cute little english accent and I'm thinking my kid is just a whiz and how many flippin' 2 year olds know how to speak with an English accent, helllooooo!!??

For the next few hours I listen to baby Hugh Grant babbling, then call Dad and tell him to listen and Dad is completely enthralled with his brilliant son. Dad comes home, we listen some more, we beam at him, we beam at each other...our son is so talented! Big Brother is just as happy with his accent and we all go to bed. Next day, same thing and I am just reveling in the geniusness that is my 2 year old son, calling everybody I know to tell them about the child prodigy (prodigy of what?? Accents?).

Then, about 3 pm I notice that Big Brother is having a hard time with his water. I look at him and he is swallowing weird, like he can't quite get it down. And he makes this face...EVERY TIME HE SWALLOWS! After pondering this whole scene for a moment, it hits me...Oh my heck! His throat hurts! He isn't talking this way because he's a genius, he's talking this way because his freakin' throat hurts so bad he can't swallow, or apparently talk, without pain! AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH! I run for the flashlight, crank open his mouth and sure enough, his tonsils are almost touching, flaming red, swollen with white pus pockets. His accent is the result of strep, that he's had for at LEAST 2 days. I started crying. He's looking at me and wondering what the fetch is wrong with Mommy and starts crying too.

I call the doctor's office, the nurse is trying not to laugh and makes me feel just a tiny bit better, but not much. She gets us in within the hour, they are 5 minutes from our house. The doctor thought it was hilarious and tried to get him to talk so he could hear the accent, but by that point Big Brother had a fever and had very little desire to channel Hugh Grant, or any other bloody Englishman, for that matter. Three hours later I had him on antibiotics, and in two days he was on the mend. But I was traumatized for weeks over the whole ordeal. He seemed fine after he recovered, but the English accents have yet to make an appearance in our home again. War memories, I guess.