I am a Terrible Mother.

There. I've said it. I'm a terrible mother. Horrible. Bleh.

So Dalton got in trouble for fighting, right? Two days in a row. Three kids. And part of that punishment was doing extra chores on top of his regular chores. (Side bar: Am I the only parent that still gives her kids chores? Seems like no one else does this.)

Friday night's chore was to dust the baseboards in the entire house. It was perfect. I hate doing it, he's in trouble, AND he's closer to the floor than me, so it's a win/win. Okay, well, it was a win for me, not so much for Big D. But I digress. He dusted the baseboards in the entire house. (Not very well, they were still kind of dirty). I had him use baby wipes so that the dust wasn't flying all over.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. Every Saturday morning, we go get allergy shots. I get two, he gets one. So we both get our shots, and about 15 minutes later, we're sitting in the waiting area for our allotted 20 minute wait time, when he starts coughing. His face gets flush. He starts wheezing. He starts hitting his chest. I stand up and make eyes with the receptionist, who stands up and yells "WE NEED AN EPI PEN!" Oh, lawdy!

There had to have been a good 40 people there that day; the clinic waiting room was so full. So they rush Dalton to the back and jab him with an epi-pen (which seriously folks, those things are no joke!! He started breathing better almost instantaneously.), then set him up with monitors to measure his heart rate and oxygen saturation, and also started doing a breathing treatment, then gave him a shot of Benadryl. Holy moly.

And this is not Dalton's first reaction. He had a reaction the day after Christmas, but they didn't have to use the epi-pen that time. This was worse; this freaked a certain mommy out to no end.

So about ten years later (seemed like it; I think it was only an hour), they are getting ready to let us leave. The doctor is warning me about how even though he is fine now, he could have another flare up, even a couple days later, and told me not to hesitate to use the epi-pen and then call an ambulance. (It's pretty mandatory to go to the ER after an epi-pen injection). She asked how long it takes to drive home, to which I say 10 minutes, 15 tops in traffic. She says "Well, you have his inhaler right?" Um, no. "Do you have his epi-pen?" Um, no. "Do you even have YOUR epi-pen?" Um, no? Lord, I'm a terrible parent. So she really lays into me while getting us samples to take for the ride home. She also warned me, no physical activity for the rest of the day.

And then I remember. He's in trouble. He's grounded from electronics. He's hopped up on albuterol and epinephrine, jittery as can be, and he's grounded. How do I entertain him? And THEN I remember the punishment. Dusting baseboards. He was exposed to a bunch of dust (dust mites being his biggest allergy), and then 12 hours later he was injected again with the serum.

So, super sly like, I say "Um. Dust. He dusted the baseboards last night." And the dr asks if he wore a dust mask. "No. Did I do this to him? Is this my fault?"
She said, and I'm quoting here... "I'm not saying it's YOUR fault..." Oh. My. God. That was it. I broke down. I almost killed my child. I am a terrible mother. Someone go ahead and call DHS so I don't have to call myself, 'mkay?