Award for Worst Mom

If I haven't already been nominated, go ahead and nominate me for "Worst Mom of the Year" award or at least add this to my "guilt" list and something I'm sure that my daughter will have to seek counseling for later in life. On Monday my middle daughter stayed home sick from school. She'd been struggling all weekend and I should have made her rest more, but was busy myself and so by Monday morning she was done for. I stayed home with her to make sure she got all her meds and drank lots of fluids and all that jazz, plus I felt bad for ignoring her symptoms the weekend before so I wanted to make up for it by being with her.

After most the morning had passed, she finally arose from her sickly slumber and so I got her all settled on the couch and dolled her up with everything from mentholatum and vitamin C, to a box of tissues and a jug of ice water. She was comfy cozy with her extra pillows and big blanket, prepped with the remote and the choice of anything she wanted to watch on tv.

A few hours later, I asked her if she felt like watching a movie with me or something since we had the afternoon alone together (a rare occurrence). She's always asking to watch scary movies and I never let her, so I asked her if she wanted to try watching an old Stephen King movie that I had taped a while ago. I'd seen it as a kid and I remembered it scared me, but that was over 30 years and this was the edited tv version I'd taped so how bad could it be.

Plus, like other instances, movies I thought were scary as a kid, now sometimes seemed really stupid as an adult. Not to mention it was about a rabid dog, not a serial killer or ghosts or anything. Maybe it was because I was feeling guilty for her being sick and wanted to baby her, I don't know, but I justified promoting a scary movie to my preteen daughter without an ounce of hesitation.

And, honestly, it'd been years since I watched that movie so I was actually excited to watch it again. I love the cheesy 1970s music and cinematography. Well, after 30 minutes into it, I thought she was going to fall asleep since the plot was starting to bore her. But then the dog went full-on rabid and the chaos began. Since so many years had passed, I'd forgotten about the number of victims the dog got and the level to which he got them. In the middle of this rampage, I began to question my decision to choose this movie as our afternoon bonding time. My doubts were confirmed when I looked over to the couch and seen my daughters face. Her eyes were the size of 50 cent pieces and fixed on the gruesome sights playing on the TV. Her face was a still as a statue and I could almost visualize the horror filling her innocent mind.

Now what a responsible parent does, is get up and immediately shut off the movie, but no ... I actually giggled out loud like some raving maniac. Amongst my laughter, I did pause to apologize to her and ask her if she was getting too scared, to which she immediately looked at me in disgust and yelled, "Why didn't that lady get into the running car? Duh! She coulda got away!" I laughed again thinking she obviously hasn't watched many scary movies because the characters are always making dumb decisions.

Anyway, she insisted on finishing the movie and claimed she wasn't scared, just "into" it. I only agreed because there were only a few minutes left before it ended but deep down I still felt like a bad mom. Not only did I ignore the way she really felt the whole weekend before making her even sicker on Monday, but now I've filled her mind with ghastly images and thoughts that'll stick with her the rest of her life. Great job, eh?

Oh, and to top off the day, Hubby and I left her alone that evening for 4 hours to fend for herself while we went out of town to her sister's ball game.

Where's the Worst Mom of the Year trophy? Has my name been etched on it yet?