Mum has Issues!

2 things occurred to me yesterday, throwbacks from when I was maybe 7 or 8.

Firstly, I was jumping on the trampoline with Tombliboo- then got off asap…our trampoline is very old, and it won’t be long until it is defunct- I am too big for it. Oh wait- I have way more than 2 issues :0) There is also this issue of flashbacks, or rather flash-forwards…where I imagine a giant calamity befalling me or one of my children. It’s better now, but was chronic after my last birth- where I could barely take a step without imagining some disaster or other.

Right, so the trampoline is not a good place for (overweight already before the last pregnancy) me right now for loads of reasons. That’s not what I meant to say.

I was watching Tombliboo bounce, when I noticed a rather long worm inching along on our path…I called him down to see it, wondering (crazily) if this was perhaps the first worm he had ever seen…certainly it would have been the longest, and the most-easy-to-see.

He was so excited! “Oooh…oh-oh…oh-no…woah!...wow!....ooooh…ssss.” “No-no,”I say, ‘Its not a snake….it’s a worm” He persists, and I assure him.

Then a sudden realisation that the worm was getting ever closer to him- he runs behind my back to peek out in safety.

Then all fear is gone, and he wanders up to it, crouches down low, waves and says ”Hello”, then stares a while longer (it really is fascinating!), then says, “Bye-bye”, and runs back behind me…then approaches again, and this time, I just *know* he is going to pick it up.

There’s my issue.

I don’t slimey things. Not one bit. I don’t like wriggly things either, and since a worm is both- and bears a marked resemblance to a snake (or which I am both fascinated and terrified), I don’t like worms.

I sued to like this book when I was little, like an encyclopedia…but the pages with different types of snake- I couldn’t touch them, not even a little bit. I had all sorts of rules about things like that, but the main one was the ritual I had of turning the pages just-so, so no part of my hand touched the snakes on the current page, or the turning page. I know, it sounds very weird- but it was very real to me at the time, so much so, that I remember it *very* clearly. The terror of maybe, perhaps touching a flat picture of a snake.

The first attempt at picking up the wriggly worm fails, but Tombliboo is not diverted. He tries again and again, and finally has the wriggly thing dangling from his little fingers. I’m trying not to put my fear (not sure that “fear” is the right word exactly) on to him, smiling sweetly, encouraging him, and thinking, “Please don’t make me touch it, please don’t make me touch it, please don’t make me touch it!”

I have a brainwave- “Let’s take it to show J-Man!”, and I make my way inside, calling out, “J- look what we’ve got!”…then rush quickly ahead to tell him Tombliboo is coming in with a surprise for him, and he’s really chuffed, so not to get freaked or anything.

“It’s poo, isn’t it Mum- he’s bringing me his poo.”

Much reassurance…”No, no, it’s just a worm, but I didn’t think you’d really like to see it.”

“Why not?”, asked J-Man, ‘I used to like worms- remember (no!) I used to wash them and bring them inside.”

The next one is teeth…Princess has a loose tooth. It is a *very* loose tooth. Her *first* loose tooth. She likes to wiggle it all day, and I am imagining how awful it must feel- only it mustn’t really, must it?, since she is doing it at every spare moment.

Last night she was upset because it was starting to hurt a little. I know that feeling, soooo ready to come out, except for maybe just one little bit. And it becomes uncomfortable, and it is hard to eat anything.

But, mostly, I remember when I was little…at school with a loose tooth. And, it getting to the point where you can nearly blow it out, but for one little teeny bit of gum. And then my mouth filling with blood, and that horrible taste, and my head swimming with possibilities.

And then I remember waking up on the bags in the cloakroom. I suspect I passed out.

I ought to have remembered that incident when I was going for my first job as a Dental Assistant, and my boss asked, “How are you with blood.”

“Oh, fine, fine”, I say, “No problems at all.” Of course I really didn’t think there would be an issue with dentists and blood. But I got the job, and I moved to a new city.

On about my second day, the word “Implant” was written on the schedule. I had no idea what that meant, and wasn’t bothered.

Wasn’t bothered, until I was holding a periosteal elevator on some person’s gum flap, staring at a titanium implant in her jaw.

“Whatever you do,” said my boss the fan-of-surgery dentist,”Don’t let go of that elevator.”

And I didn’t…but I did pass out, and clonk my head on the nearby cabinet. I woke with my boss grinning over me trying to get me to drink a (nasty) glucose drink, and the rest of the day quite bewildered about what I had seen, and listening to his jokes about his “down to earth nurse”.

I fainted many times after that. Not *every* time I saw blood, more like- every time I imagined that blood was my own. Nearly every time we pulled wisdom teeth, knowing my turn was imminent (and they were badly impacted).

Sometimes I could feel the familiar signs, and leave the room with enough time to avoid it…crisis averted. Sometimes I left the room, splashed water on my face, steadied myself, went back in…and still fainted.

Back to Princess…I don’t like watching a tooth wobble. I try to be excited, but really I don’t like watching it. And last night, I really didn’t like watching. I must have been here before with J-Man…well, I have been, and I do remember. I remember the point where I think a tooth probably needs a little help in coming out, and not knowing how I will do it without flaking. I also wonder how other parents manage, or are they without my issues?