Cotton Wool (over eyes) (From Swindon Advertiser)

Cotton Wool (over eyes)

10:18am Friday 20th March 2009

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My little soldier came down the stairs at seven thirty this morning wounded. He was clutching at his side and looked terrible. He told me that he had a pain in his tummy. I sat him on the sofa and gave him some calpol, genuinely worried.

After about ten minutes, he appeared fine and the look of pain had completely gone from his face. He scoffed down his breakfast yogurt and chatted twenty to the dozen at me, whilst I rushed around getting ready. I think that he had slept so heavily that he missed his bladder signalling that it was call of nature time. When he woke up he had a pain, which eased within half hour of his waking and going to the toilet and he was fine. Although he would have disagreed with Mum’s “You are fine now” diagnosis!

As soon as I said to him that he looked a lot better and it looked like he would be able to go to school after all, he proceeded to clutch at his side again and look at me with huge, sad puppy dog eyes. He was the wounded soldier again! How could Mummy even consider sending him to school! He was a cross between wounded and indignant - just the right mix I would say. Well, he is nine years old and has had a few years of practice!

This triggered memories of the bad leg at the hospital incident. The said incident took place a couple of years ago. He had tripped over whilst playing in the garden and had a small bruise on his leg, nothing major. But he refused to walk, stating that the pain was unbearable. Initially, I was not convinced and thought that the best thing to do would be to try and ignore him and he would soon snap out of it. Cue two hours later and he was still crying and begging me to believe that he was in agony. At this point I re-examined the leg but found nothing other than the tiny bruise, however doubts set in. Perhaps he had damaged his leg and it was not visible? So I gave him some medicine and continued to monitor him.

Another couple of hours passed and he was still refusing to walk on the leg and looking at me with huge wounded eyes (do you see a pattern here?) I then made the decision to take him to the hospital to get it checked out, just to be on the safe side.

We got to the hospital and there was a three hour wait. We went into the children’s play area, where he sat reading a book. He got up a couple of times to play with the other children, hobbling of course! I popped to the loo and when I came back, I spotted him standing quite normally! He looked at me guiltly and then quickly hobbled back to his chair with the “I’m in agony look” I did question him at this point and asked if his leg was better, but he was insistent that it wasn’t.

Eventually, after our three hours were up, we were called in. I had to try and lift him onto the hospital bed, so that the doctor could examine him (not good when you have a bad back). I eventually heaved him up and along came the doctor. The doctor asked him what the problem was and he said:

“Doctor I had a really bad leg, look (pointing to his small bruise,) but I am better now! Do you want me to show you? Look at me jump of this bed!”

Arrrgghhh! Cue one embarrassed Mum apologising profusely for wasting the doctor’s time!

So after recalling the above incident, I sent my wounded solider to school. I can however predict how events of the day might unfold. He will tell his teacher that his tummy hurts and eventually be sent to the school office (he really is quite convincing!) I will then be called to go and pick him up, feeling like a guilty bad Mummy, because I never believed him in the first place. He will get home and make another "miraculous recovery!"

Now that I have written this, I fear that little man will really turn out to be poorly this time. I will then end up full of regret and guilt and then toruture myself forever more for being a bad Mummy. Arrgghh! Why is being a parent so hard?

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