Here’s a story. It’s a true story.
It’s New Years Eve. I’m working. I go on my lunch break, because that’s just how I roll. I check my phone and see that there are five text messages from my sons father. It goes pretty much like this:
GAHHHHHH, ANGER, RAGE, ANNOYANCE, OUR SON CAN’T POOP, PANIC, ANNOYANCE, MORE ANGER, SCREAMING, MORE CONVO ABOUT POOP.
My son has been blessed with a moody stomach since he was born. In short, sometimes – he has trouble taking a crap. He just can’t. The boy claws at his face and screams, it hurts that bad. It’s no joke. There is nothing more painful to a parent’s ears than the cry of pain from a child.
So I call my sons father and we have an exchange in which he explains that my son hasn’t dropped a log in two days. Yes, I just referred to poop as a log. Again, because that’s how I roll. I can hear my little man screaming in the background, grunting and whimpering. His ass hurts. Period.
My sons father cant take him to the store, my child is that agonized. So he says he thinks he’s going to take him to the ER. This will entail random people messing with my sons rectum, a large bill and a very annoyed father. My head already hurts. He then informs me that he is considering performing an enema on my son with…and I quote, “I have a turkey baster and water…that should work.” You want to stick what in my son? OH HELL NO.
The pressure is on and it’s up to me to do something. “I don’t know what to do,” he says, which means I have to be the one to fix this. And there goes that mothers dilemma. Working and Family. Family and Work. I’ve helped with inventory but there is still much to be done. But my son can’t go on like this. That turkey baster is not going near my sons ass! So, I make the call. I’m going to have to go.
I tell one person and he is fine with my decision. He gives the best advice he can. All I can think about it my son screaming. But I have to inform the right channels so I’m not considered MIA. So, I find the next in command.
I get attitude. A wave of the hand and a “well what about…” comment. But I don’t have time for that. I’ve got to do for my child. I am on the road in no time. I head to Walgreens. “Um…hi…my son can’t shit. What would fix that.” Why beat around the bush, right?
The clerk gives me the generic suppository. But this is my sons ass we’re talking about. Now is not the time to try and cut corners to save money. So I pay the 8 dollars for the legit medicine versus 1.99 for the store brand. Yeah, I know, I’m all about dropping the big bucks. I get some Pedialyte so my son doesn’t dehydrate. I’m with my son just minutes after the purchase.
I attempt to ignore my sons screams while I administer the medication. And then I hold him. Try to soothe him and myself. I’m in full fledged mommy mode, cradling my son until he falls asleep in my arms. I set him down and head to the door. “He’s going to crap within the hour. I’m going back to work.”
I’m back in 1 hour 5 minutes time. Pretty damn good for the distance, purchase and enema I just performed.
Shitty day, right?
That’s not the annoying part for me. My son can puke, pee, shit all over me. I deal. It’s just apart of the makeup of mommyhood. You know what did get to me. You know what really made me break down? Two things. I’m only going to address one of those things in this post. The second thing will be in the following post, which I will pen shortly. The thing I can share with you is this:
I am annoyed that anyone would imply or insinuate by asking someone else if they think I am telling the truth about why I had to leave work. Lets analyze this. If I was going to lie – Don’t you think I could think up something better than “my son can’t shit?” SERIOUSLY! Secondly, what is asking this person going to do? You’re placing whether you believe me on someone else?
My feelings are not hurt. I’m pissed off about it. It is questioning my moral character, my integrity, my choices as a mother. I will not have anyone, EVER, make me feel like I have to worry that I will be believed when it comes to my son. It is insulting, demeaning, and offensive. PERIOD. What am I going to do with this situation? As of right now, I don’t know.
My son is doing much better. THAT is what matters. I will deal with my son’s bowel issues to the best of my ability. I WILL NOT take random adults bullshit. You couldn’t pay me enough.
Here’s a lie for you. I like you. I respect you. I think you’re good at your job. I look up to you.