Am I a "Modern Family?"...

I am totally hooked on the new show Modern Family. Have you seen it? Please say you have! It is a total keeper in my TV watching repertoire. I think all 3 families are great and I can relate a little to each one. I had a flash back moment last night when Claire had to call 911 and have the fireman come to the house. I'm pretty sure I'm not up for "Mom of the Year" so I am comfortable sharing a story with my blog readers.

I am pretty much over the trauma.

I bet some therapy will help.

Here goes...

I was about 6 months pregnant with Amanda and Mike is at work at a new job which was a completely crappy company and situation but that's for another blog. Anyway, I was fixing Cameron, Molly and myself some dinner. I was dishing up dinner for the 3 of us and Molly breaks out into blood curdling screams.

Hysterical.

This is the culprit...



And then I reenact the problem with Molly's American Girl doll...


Yep, you got it. My 21 month old had her ankle stuck in the rungs of our kitchen chair. And yep, you guessed it, I couldn't GET IT OUT!

No joke.

I first tried calling Mike at work. Couldn't get him. I then tried looking for a saw. Molly's ankle was totally wedged in the chair. Not budging at all. I don't even know if we own a saw so that quickly didn't look like an option. I didn't know what else to do so I had to call 911. I told them that this wasn't a "true" emergency. I was so embarrassed and they transferred me to the local fire department who fielded my call. They said they needed to come to the house. They were worried about Molly's ankle breaking or the circulation cutting off.

I begged them not to use the sirens.

I then was in a panic so I called my neighbor and told her not to be alarmed if a fire truck pulled up to the house. She grabs her 2 kids and comes racing down the street. In the mean time here's where my Modern Family moment happens. Even though Molly is in distress (although not crying at this exact moment) I start racing around like a wild woman picking up the family room and cleaning the kitchen. At this moment I still think I'm eligible to be the Mom of the Year so I want to seem perfect. Let's be real here. Any Mom who can't get her kids ankle out of a kitchen chair is far from perfect. In the mean time Mike has called and is in a complete panic when I tell him the situation so he is racing out the door of work. Cameron is out of his mind with excitement when a huge fire truck pulls up to our curb.

I kid you not but the most handsome fireman ever walks in to my house to save the day.

My neighbor and I are drooling.

Oh yes, focus on Molly's poor foot. The fireman has me get out some dish soap and he lathers her foot up and it slips out. I now feel like a sloppy, pregnant moron Mom and am even more embarrassed. He wants to wait a minute to make sure Molly can walk on her foot and she proceeds to run away from him.

Yep, I think she's ok.

The fireman goes on his marry way and I'm left with dinner dishes and a bruised Mommy ego.

The next morning we get up and go downstairs to have breakfast and wouldn't you know the exact same thing happens again! But this time I'll be damned if I'm going to call for help. I cut the foot off of Molly's footie PJ's and get the soap out. I lather it up and eventually slip her foot out. No way and I having DCFS showing up at my door!

It's a good story now and I will never forget it. We still have the same (stupid) kitchen chairs. I guess I haven't learned my lesson.

Mother of the Year flunkies normally don't.