Mother of the Year....

Okay, I promised I would relay the sad tale of how I failed in my attempt to be considered for the coveted title of Mother of the Year. I give you fair warning, it is a little disgusting. Really, there are more ways than I can count that I am sure I have screwed up Meron. I mean, every time I do or fail to so something major I add a little money to her "either therapy or college account" so I feel it might slip under the radar. This incident, though, bars me from the contest for the year... and maybe for life. It all started with a little thing that we like to call "Prapple Juice" that led to what we call (with no little horror) a "Poop-splosion."
It is a fine balance getting the exact right amount of juice into Meron. Too much leads to disgusting things, too little leads to a lot of pain and tears and a little incident that keeps Nathan in the running for "Father of the Year" (ooo, will there ever be gloating from him if he succeeds in his bid after I failed so miserably), but also has caused some flashbacks and nightmares. The right amount seems to be one 6 ounce juice cup in the morning- mostly apple juice with a little splash of prune juice to give it a deadly brown color. Thus, prapple juice became part of Meron's daily diet.
Unfortunately, one fateful day, we were almost out of apple juice. The prapple juice I was to make wouldn't have the proper 4/5 apple 1/5 prune ratio. It would have to be Prunple juice... 4/5ths prune and 1/5 apple. This was my first failing of the day. I should have gone out to buy apple juice. Instead, I lazily let the child drink mostly prune juice, reasoning that she was hungry for breakfast and would not take kindly to being parted from her fuzzy jammies so early in the morning. The day went well. We played on the floor for a long time (me not knowing that the title I was working for was already slipping through my grasp). Then, Mer gave the universal signal for a diaper change (a funny face followed by a paint-peeling odor wafting throughout the room). Being the good mama that I am, I went to change her immediately, not noticing that we only had a few wipes left in the container.
I began the task at hand, and almost immediately panicked. It was a poop-splosion to end all poop-splosions in Mer's cute little cloth diapers. These diapers have a rice paper liner that you use (they look a little like about three sheets of toilet paper in the bottom of the diaper), so that you don't need to rinse solid waste off of the diapers. We usually just flush it and go on about our day. This poop-splosion mocked the very idea of liners. There was poo everywhere: on both sides of the liner, front to back of the diaper, on the diaper cover and coming out the legs. I was horrified, but set to work. Soon, due to my sweetly cooing and wriggling baby, I had poo all over the back of one hand and on two of the fingers of the other hand. It was then I realized that we were out of the cloth wipes that we usually use, and I had to open up a pack of disposable wipes. I got poo all over both wipes containers and the changing table (since I had to let go of Mer's legs so I could use both hands). I was attempting to block Meron's roving hands with my elbow, and thought I had been doing a good job. I was actually secretly congratulating myself on my multitasking abilities as I triumphantly pulled out a few new wipes and returned my full attention to the baby. I looked down just in time to see her hand, which my horrified mind insisted must be covered with peanut butter, go directly into her mouth. That's right, the baby ate poop. Being a curious soul, she had been attempting to do so for quite some time but had been unsuccessful until my lapse of good parenting. Judging by the look on her face, it wasn't really as good as she had always imagined. But, the deed was done. My once pure baby was now tainted, and I was left trying to figure out what to do. Did I spray her mouth with disinfectant? Did I get her to rinse out her mouth? Her cup was still full of prunple juice, and goodness knows she didn't need any more of that. Should I brush her gums and tongue with a tooth brush? I almost decided on that, but then decided we'd need to burn her tooth brush. So really, I mostly just tried to get her to rinse out her mouth with water and then secretly avoided her mouth for a few days. And that is how I lost my hope of being entered in the contest for Mother of the Year. If you have any stories about how you lost your titles, I'd love to hear them. It might make me feel a little better, although it won't make me forget...