"It was a day of epic temper tantrums. Screaming, flailing, and locking myself in the coat closet for a good cry...all before 9 a.m. After a cup of juice went sailing across my living room, and a cat went running for her life, I did the unthinkable. I grabbed the weapon of my mother's choice. The wooden spoon. I didn't hit the kid with it, but I went tearing through the house like a screaming banshee, hitting the spoon on walls and tables and letting him know that this spoon would make contact with his bottom if he didn't quit acting like a demon. Needless to say, he straightened right up." -- Jennifer Sale, "My Most Horrible Mom-ent of 2012"
"A few weeks ago, I needed to drop into work on my day off to finish up some paperwork. I anticipated being there for about five minutes, so I brought my son in with me. I was surprised to see that my department director was there, and I stopped by to say hello to him while carrying my son on my hip. We were just about to say goodbye when my son transformed into a mythical creature, grabbed the neckline of my shirt, and pulled it over revealing my bra, where he reached one tiny hand, looked up at my supervisor with a gleam in his eye, and shouted out a resounding, 'MINE!'" -- Abby Raines, "My Son Protects His 'Territory'"
"My toddler had been quietly watching a video in my room. My 'mom radar' should have gone off at this point. The doorbell rings. It is the food, fantastic. Timed to perfection! As I glance over the delivery guy's shoulder, I see my company pulling into the driveway. Showtime! I run to go get my wallet off of my dresser, and I can't open the door. It is locked. I knew she had been too quiet. My daughter is now screaming and crying the most scared and curdled tone. I am embarrassed; mommy mode is kicking into high gear, as I am frantically trying to open the door, partially because I want to pay for the food so this guy can go, partially to save myself from more humility, but mostly because it is hurting me to hear my daughter so frightened. A butter knife does the trick." -- Scarlett Hill, "Company and Chaos"
"This year, our family road trip was to Niagara Falls, N.Y. As we explored the park, we decided to get an up-close look at a border crossing. My four-year-old son was drawn to the security turnstiles like a magnet. As I watched him move closer to the fence, I joked, 'Don't cross the border or you might get stuck in Canada.' He pushed on the turnstile little by little and inched his way further and further in between the bars. I became nervous as he continued to move slowly into the turnstile and decided it was time for me to get him out of there. However, I wasn't quick enough. A look of terror covered my son's face, and he began to scream as he tried desperately to squeeze his way out of the turnstile. My son, trapped like a caged animal, stood there and bawled his eyes out. I also welled up with tears as I listened to him say between sobs, 'I don't-- want--to go--to Canada. Get me--out--of here!'" --Kristie Farnham, "One Mom's Border Nightmare"
"The day after Halloween, I stupidly decide I can tackle Walmart on a military pay day. Our mission? Nothing emergent, but to pick through some leftover costumes for my daughter's dress-up box. Without realizing I just may have flown too close to the sun, I head to the check-out with minutes to spare to pick up my oldest up from school. While scanning a pair of wings, I smell the smell that will make all moms stop in their tracks. I say gently to my daughter, 'Did you make a poo poo in your panties?' To which she replies, 'No, Mom, see…' and sticks her hand into her underwear. Instantly realizing that a 'no' is in fact a 'yes,' we speed through the check out and rush to the bathroom. Upon realizing the women's room is closed for cleaning, we detour to the men's bathroom. I'm forced to tell a stunned male, 'Pull up your pants. It's an emergency.' I have no spare clothes, wipes, or diapers in her size, so I take her discount witch costume and put her in it. Lacking underwear, I MacGyver two newborn diapers taped together to cover her backside." -- Melissa A. Brook, "Icarus and the Potty-Training Toddler"
What's your most horrible "mom-ent" of 2012?