Bet you guessed Brittany Spears. Nope. That was a couple of years ago. How passe.
Or maybe Brangelina. Will they stop having kids already?
Or maybe one of those moms on Jerry Springer. You know, the one that needs a paternity test to figure out which five guys is the father of her 3 year old love child. She's also the one to get into a fist fight with the other two ladies trying to figure out the same thing.
And the answer is...none of the above. As of this afternoon, its settled. Its me. Big time.
It all started on Wednesday when I got a call from school. I should be used to these by now. But the nice nurse at Pond Boy's school called to tell me he had a little accident in gym. Seems he had a run in with a basketball and he jammed his finger.
She said he was fine, it was OK and he was coming home with some ice. No biggie.
I promptly examined it, and yes indeed it was swollen. But so are a number of other injuries we see around here. So being the decisive person I am, I told him, "Let's wait till you dad gets home."
Now there's one thing about my dearest hubby. He's a minimalist in the way he approaches problems. Most things are fine until proven otherwise. So when, after examining the injury, he proclaimed "nothing but a sprain" I should have said something.
Like that happened. I was too busy making dinner, supervising homework and after-school activities and thwarting the Little Stinker's efforts to torture the cat. I got sidetracked, OK?
Fast forward to three days later. I'm in the kitchen with Pond Boy when I notice something funny about his hand. Was it always that blue? I don't remember it looking like a balloon before? I know my memory is a little fuzzy these days, but something was most definitely not right.
So one trip to Urgent Care and two hours later we got the verdict. Its broken. Its also out of place. He was put in a splint and first thing Monday morning we'll be making a visit to the hand specialist.
So now you all know my dirty little secret. I let my son go three days with a broken hand. Isn't that special? I'm the proud recipient of the Worst Mother of the Year award. And its only January. Can't wait to see what the rest of the year will bring.
Feeling Really, Really Stupid,