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Friday, 17 July 2009

Ip Dip Doo

Ok. There is no delicate way of putting this. Last night after dinner – my stomach started gurgling unpleasantly, like a distant drain, in the way that makes you know absolutely that farting would not be a good idea. Having just recovered from weeks of a nasty eye infection, I felt more irritated than anything. Went to bed feeling faintly nauseous but okayish. Poor Husband had been secretly worrying about having a grumpy one eyed wife so I didn’t want to bother him too much. Woke this morning, creaked out of bed lumpily, stood up, and felt a deep growling warning in the pit of my stomach. You know how people say there is nothing more undignified than giving birth? Probably true but knowing with utter clarity you are 1.3 seconds away from pooing yourself runs a very close second.

Anyway, I was sitting on the loo feeling like I’d swallowed a Semtex laxative. And in trotted The Girl. All parents of small children will understand that feeling of wanting just a few seconds to yourself in the morning before being assaulted by a stream of chirping consciousness. Many has been the morning I’ve crept to the bathroom, begging silently for The Girl to stay asleep. (The Boy being nearly fifteen could sleep through a nuclear explosion). It never happens. She’s at her most perky at 7am. Hello mummy I had a dream and my friend Molly said that I couldn’t play with her and I want a banana for breakfast and my teacher said I have to remember . . . . I sometimes feel mild irritation that she won’t even let me go to the loo in the morning without insisting on accompanying me. She normally sits on the side of the bath with her increasingly smelly soft toy Tigger, chirping away.

This morning was no different, despite my affliction. She sat there on the side of the bath holding Tigger. Only this time there was a more rancid aroma in the air than her favourite soft toy. I’m going to hold my nose mummy she announced in a matter of fact tone because it smells of poo. And she did. But she carried on chattering away while I sorted myself out. It occurred to me that even though I must have looked a right sight, and didn’t smell too clever either – she still wanted to sit with me, chatter to me, be with me. It was slightly humbling. And gave me a little glow. Which rapidly disappeared when feeling much better I took her to school and she tugged her teacher on the sleeve and announced piercingly loudly, Mummy just pooed herself.


The wife of bold said...

This is my favorite post - ever!!! So funny and i was nodding in agreement, the toilet is the only me time i ever get to myself but thats only if i remember to lock the door :)

Jane said...

Ta WoB! You are very kind. I remember one mother guiltily admitting that she'd sit on the loo and see these little hands appear under the door and want to stamp on them!

Kit Courteney said...

This post has made my day, no - week.

You paint a very pretty picture!

Kit Courteney said...

Bollocks. I forgot to ask - How's your eye, now?

A jewel shining through said...

So know what you mean, when you're struggling to deal with your "illnesses" but have to be on hand too. It should also be in the handbook that parenting doesn't come with - never tell a little one anything that you wouldn't be happy to shout out loud, because usually it will be at the most inopportune moment :)

Wendy said...

Loved this post, i laughed as I could totally relate to your story. My daughter is now 16 and i still am unable to go to the loo in peace, I don't know why someone would subject themselves to other peoples toilet smells unnecessarily!!! however, what I love even more about my daughter is she waits until i am having 'me time' in the bath, with all my lovely smelling bubbles and then she comes in and shares a nice smelly poo with me. Why she chooses to come and have a poo when i am in the bath beats me when we have two other loo's in the house! But I suppose those are the things that you don't share with anyone else but your daughter (thankfully).I love being a Mum :-)