Motherhood is Explosive

I like to think I speak quite openly and honestly about Motherhood.

It ain't all butterflies and bubbles.

It is a grueling, unrelenting job.

It is worth it?  Absolutely, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Might I mention that I'm convinced my child tries to mortify me in public any chance he gets?

Any.  Chance.

There's the tantrum.  The temper.  

The "NO MOMMA!"  to everything.

The fierce "I DO IT!" independent streak.

And... I'd like to add another story to the Motherhood Mortification File.

Because I love you so much, and I like to prep those who haven't yet/just about to enter this Club as much as possible.

All working mothers know that when your cell phone rings and your kid's school name pops up on the Caller ID - it isn't going to be good news.

I mean, they aren't calling to tell you your 2-year-old just recited "The Raven" or anything.

The reaction to seeing the school name pop up - or seeing it on the Missed Calls section because you've been in a meeting - is pure dread.  

For starters, it means your little Pork Chop is sick.  

Which garners automatic fear and panic immediately.

And then, the fast and furious "Who can pick up H?" ensues between you and Daddy.  

Mommy usually "wins."  

A couple of weeks ago, I saw I had a missed call from School.  

With a sort-of-panicky voicemail that I needed to call them back immediately.

My stomach dropped. This wasn't going to be good.

I raced through our morning together - no fever, no rash, no cough, no anything.

What could have happened in the past 4 hours?

West Nile Virus?  Broken arm on playground? Malaria?  

Sometimes as a mother you assume the worst.

It's part of the job.

I called back, silently praying, that whatever it was could be cured with an antibiotic.

"Christina, the director said. "You must come get Harrison immediately.  He has been having bowel troubles all morning long, and we are on a third change of clothes."

Insert eye roll from me.  

And annoyed sigh.

"What?  Do you just mean his stomach's upset? Does that really warrant me having to come get him?" Me.
(I am very caring working mother, I swear.)

"Christina - this is bad.  It is literally explosive.  In fact, there has been a bit of panic about it - we've had to evacuate the other children from the classroom because of the smell and it was running out of his shorts."

Silence from me.  

Face turning crimson.

Armpits in pure embarrassment sweat.  

"I'll be there in 20 minutes." Me

Explosive.  Evacuation.

Yep, that's my kid - and I literally wanted to crawl under my desk with mortification.

Not to mention crawl past the front desk at school to hide my red face.

In closing, H had ended up having something he was allergic to all weekend, and his little body chose to expel said allergic soy milk at school.

He was perfectly fine, especially after I filled him with oatmeal and peanut butter. 

And NO MORE SOY MILK.

You're welcome.