necessity really IS the mother of invention

I've never been the most well prepared mom during my children's tenure. During play dates, while other mothers doled out Goldfish crackers and delicious cold juice boxes to their hungry offspring, I'd assure mine they just thought they were hungry, then encourage them to turn their Dickinsonian beggar faces away from the sight of that cheddar flavored cracker crack.

I've driven miles out if my way with a screaming baby in tow to find a Target, then rushed in to buy a pacifer(s) (definitely plural) because I couldn't locate the binky my wonderful, albeit temporarily possessed spawn had tossed ferociously aside within the confines of our tiny Chevy Cavalier (even our old car wasn't good preparation for my role as a mother!).

Over the years, I have wracked up exorbitant overdrafts on school lunch accounts, been stranded sans baby wipes following tsunami-like diaper blowouts, and forgotten to RSVP to much anticipated Chuck E. Cheese birthday parties (though in retrospect, that might have been on purpose...).

Long story short, this girl ain't no Boy Scout. I sort of suck at planning ahead where my kids are involved. Much respect to animals in the wild, who will forego eating for months just so their young might enjoy the fruits of the hunt, which, wow, even more respect, is sometimes digested then regurgitated into the open maws of said babes! If roles were reversed, well, clearly my kids might be forced to drink their own urine and, naturally, I shudder to think!

All this talk brings me to tonight. Imagine my horror when, on our way home from baseball practice, my youngest son informs me he has a bloody nose. "Gah!" I thought upon hearing this. "GAH!" I cried when I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the geyser that is his tiny nose. There was so much blood it was as if Dexter Morgan had set up his kill room in the backseat if the Hyundai (because we clearly learned nothing after the Cavalier...)

I panicked, of course, because I knew I had nothing to help rectify this matter. "Here's a newspaper!" I said, tossing the ad circulars I'd read while waiting out ball practice. "Hold these to your nose while I think if what to do!"

What I did involved rummaging fruitlessly through my giant, I'll-equipped purse in hopes of a first aid miracle. Chew some gum and have him shove it up his nostril? Maybe...but no. Wish my copy of 'Fifty Shades of Grey' was an actual book and not on my Nook? Good idea, but honestly, that book is so horrendously bad the pages would better serve as emergency toilet paper. I lacked tissues, stray fast food napkins or a cauterizing tool and it was beginning to look like a horror show back there.

And then deep in the abyss that is my purse, my fingers grazed across the ultimate solution...which is why, if you'd driven past us on the highway tonight and snuck a peek in the backseat of my car, you'd have seen my son with a tampon shoved up his left nostril, the string flapping in the breeze of his downed window. Somewhere in the wilds, I think Bear Grylls felt a chill rush through him. Such ingenuity! Such, well, we'll leave it at that. That's a merit badge right there, kids! Here, son, use this giant Q-tip to staunch the blood!

When we got home, I deposited boxes of tissue in both of our family cars. My oldest child might be three years away from heading to college, but I'll swear I'll get this prepared parent thing down sooner or later.