NOTHING tops off a fun-filled week of child wrangling like chest infections. It’s just the way things go when you’re a mum; it’s to be expected. When the going gets tough, the tough get sick. The tough can’t just walk out and go shopping or fly to France like the tough used to be able to do.
I went to see a wonderful doctor in town who told me to go straight home via the pharmacy to pick up three rounds of antibiotics for the lot of us (me x 2 terrors). I remember this doctor with such fondness. It seems like when I was in Mt Isa I actually lived at his medical centre, could have paid the guy rent. It had only been days before that I was there with my son who a very large and prickly piece of Spinifex lodged in the back of his throat. He had been gagging all afternoon before the good doctor successfully removed this giant piece of turf with the most amazing curved surgical scissors. “So tell me Allyson, why was your son eating grass?” he asked. Beats me!
Anyway, I did as I was told and drove to the chemist to pick up the three prescriptions plus a few odds and ends like inhalers, chest rubs, a ventilator, Panadol, antihistamines, cough drops, Combantrim, acidophilous, Berocca, vitamin C, Valium, and chocolate!
It wasn’t a hot day by any means as I parked outside the pharmacy (the one which made a small fortune every time I walked in) leaving the windows slightly open for the terrors in the back seat. Bringing the children inside for a two minute drug pick up was just not going to happen. It would have taken longer to get them in and out of the vehicle than it would have taken to pick up the script. I didn’t feel like running after them while they tore things off the shelves, although yes that really IS a lot of fun. When they were strapped in all was safe, but of course I was wrong.
Later on that afternoon I was trudging along, sniffling and coughing when I hear DING DONG. Must be one of my buddies coming with flowers and chocolates for poor old me, maybe even the 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets I ordered from eBay.
But no, I opened the door to find a policeman standing there.
“Hello there officer. Is there a problem with my neighbours again?” I exclaimed sounding like the respectable, law abiding citizen that I truly am. I used to practice law after all. I was above the law, or so I thought.
“Are you the owner of that white Nissan Xtrail parked in your driveway? And were you out today at about 2 pm at the Pharmacy on Rodeo Drive.”
“Yes sir I was. Is there a problem?” I reply, feeling slightly unnerved by his tone.
“Are you aware that it is illegal to leave children in a vehicle unaccompanied?”
Gulp. Of course I am!
“A concerned woman who was near your vehicle reported your number plate to us after she heard screaming and fighting coming from the back seat. No adult was present. We have to check up on all police reports Mrs Seaborn, especially where the welfare of children is concerned.”
Double gulp.
“I’m so sorry your honour, er… I mean Officer. It will never happen again I promise. You see I was really, really exhausted and I have a chest infection, actually I think I’m coming down with gastro as well and that’s why I was at the pharmacy – to get antibiotics for my family…. and it is so difficult getting the double pram out and putting the kids in it. I have a bad back you know and I mean, I can’t just let the kids wander around the shop….maybe I should have, I dunno…… Actually, the kids are the ones who are sick, I couldn’t take sick kids into the chemist. They had kicked their shoes off and I thought I left the iron on and……”
Stop Talking Allyson. Just nod and shut up for once, my inner crim tells me.
“Yes well…” the police officer continued, as I prepared for him to read me my rights and cuff me there and then.
“We have to check up on all complaints, especially where the welfare of children are concerned”. Welfare of the children? What about mummy welfare?
It’s not like I was going to the casino to play the pokies for a few hours in 40 degree heat although yes, that idea had actually crossed my mind.
“I’m terribly sorry officer. It will never happen again” I respond, head hanging in shame.
His look changed to one of compassion when he hears some giggling and watches as a couple of kids scramble up to me, pulling on my hands and smiling ear to ear.
“Ha ha mummy is in BIG FAT TROUBLE with the police!! He he he! Naughty, NAUGHTY mummy! Ooooh wait till we tell daddy!” Giggle, snort, sputter. They thought it was the funniest thing ever. Aren’t you kids supposed to be sick?
Fellow mums, as the age old adage goes – I hope I live long enough to be a burden to my children…..
(Previously published by The Star News)
© 2011 Allyson Seaborn |
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