An Embarrassing Tale from the Schoolyard: Sphincter Spasms and Sympathy
This morning I wrote a blog post bemoaning the fact that I not only had been hit with a particularly vicious bout of gastro, but also that my husband failed to show me sufficient sympathy.
That is right. Woe is me, and all that crap.
This morning feeling like death warmed up, I made a desperate call to the child care centre in the hope that I could deposit Foghorn and Bubble there for the day, so I could go home and hug the toilet in peace.
In between stomach pains and intermittent sphincter spasms I managed to complete the drop offs at school and child care, without crapping myself or vomiting on unsuspecting small children. The porcelain god, whom I had been worshipping for most of the night it seemed, was looking out for me.
I spent a much-needed day in bed recovering and sipping blackcurrent gastrolite and I refused to let Mother-guilt spoil it. If she did rear her head to harp on about the housework or palming off my children, I promised myself that I would bitch-slap her, and go back to sleep.
All too soon, the clock ticked around to 3pm and I realized that it was almost time to get out of my PJ’s and get dressed for the school run. Urgh! For once, I was thankful for the horrible cold, wet and windy weather that Melbourne has borne the brunt of for the past few days. It meant that I could leave the house looking horrendous and disheveled, confident in the knowledge that even the most pimped and primed of the other mums would look equally windswept and unkempt! Hoorah for crap weather!
Crossing the road to the school I noticed that the Prep classes were having some ‘free time’ running around the play area and no doubt letting off some steam after being couped up inside all day week.
Clusters of mums, chatting away in their little gaggles, already littered the schoolyard.
“MUM!” Woo shouted across the yard as he spotted me approaching the school gate. A big smile lit his face and I smiled back, unconvincingly with my hand clamped around my tummy.
“ARE YOU OKAY, MUM?” shouted the Woo in a voice that no doubt carried on the wind to even the remotest, far flung places, as he raced towards me with deep concern etched into his little features.
“HAVE YOU STILL GOT THE RUNNY POOS?”
When was the last time your child embarrassed you in a public place?