That would be "Mother of the Year". This title is usually reserved for those of us that manage to royally screw up in one way or another. We assign it to ourselves with much snark and shame.

I earned that title today.

My oldest kids have given up juice. The dentist told them it could cause cavities so they stopped drinking it immediately. Emily has decided to follow suit.

Up until two days ago, Emmy loved her juice. Now, mind you, she gets about 90% water and 10% juice in her cup. But still, she loved her juice - watered down and all.

You guys also know Emmy has a big time speech delay. In the last year, she has improved by leaps and bounds. She can articulate herself in ways that have allowed us to know if she's sad, mad, uncomfortable, hurt, etc. Six months ago, she had no way to tell us those things.

So, in the last two days, she's not had any juice. Well, this morning, Allen gave her juice again.

Fast forward to this evening. I'm downstairs trying to soothe the screaming baby. I hear Emmy at the top of the stairs crying. I yelled at her to go to bed. And she says through tears:

"But mom! My bum hurts."

I head up the stairs to take a peek at the problem. Physically, there's nothing going on that I can see. I ask her a series of questions to try and decipher what is going on. Mind you, I have a screaming infant lying on the floor while I try to comfort my poor toddler.

I told her I couldn't see anything, I couldn't help her, and she needed to get to bed. She crawled into bed and begged me, "I want you hold me. I want you hold me. I want you hold me."

With irritated sympathy, I explained, "I can't hold you. I have the baby. She's upset and hungry. I need to take care of her."

I grabbed the baby and left.

After I calmed Sofia down, I heard Emmy still awake in her room. So, I went in to see how she was doing.

She's trying to stay strong. She knows I can't understand her well. She knows I'm tired and cranky. Her little features crumble and she says through her sobs:

"Daddy gave me...Daddy gave me...Daddy said no...Daddy made me have juice today. He no let me have my cup and I had to have juice. It hurt my bum. My tummy..my tummy...my tummy... hurts."

How long has my poor Emmy had an upset tummy but didn't know how to make the words to tell us? Usually, an 12 or 18 month old kid can at least get that across to their caregiver. But not Emmy. She didn't know how to make the sounds to tell us words.

So basically, I've been giving her something that has been causing her pain for almost her entire life. And when she tried to tell me tonight, I yelled at her to go to bed. I left her crying because I was frazzled.

All you mommies know exactly what I'm talking about on this one.

Like I said, MOTY.

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What started as a way to communicate with far away friends and family has become a place for this horse trainer/HR manager turned stay at home mom of 3 girls to hold on to a bit of her own identity. It's my take on the ins and outs, the ups and downs, the thoughts and feelings, the mistakes and triumphs of this family as we bumble our way to eternity.