The following takes place between 7.30pm Monday night and 7.30pm Tuesday night…
Oh God I feel sick.
I can’t feel sick, it’s Monday night.
It’s probably just a bug.
Of course it’s a bug – the kids probably gave it to me.
Why are the kids always giving me their bugs??
I just need to sleep on it.
If only I COULD sleep, these cramps are hardcore.
Suck it up, it’s Monday night. I can’t be sick.
Take a couple of Panadol.
And a cup of tea.
Oh my God, I’m so middle-aged.
Hubby can get the kids to bed.
Why isn’t he getting the kids to bed?
How long is he letting them stay up?
And now they’re fighting. Over who is having their shower first.
Why do my children hate being clean?
What did I do wrong?
Will you put the bloody kids to bed!
I have to go to sleep or I’ll be sick tomorrow.
Tomorrow is Tuesday, I can’t be sick.
Thank God I finally fell asleep, what time is it?
Only midnight? I’ve still got cramps.
Curl up in the foetal position, oh wait…
Why is there no room next to me?
Oh FFS, why can’t my youngest stay in his bed all night?
I have to go to the toilet.
No I don’t.
Yes I do.
Diarrhea. Yep, it’s a bug.
But I’m still in pain.
Go back to sleep, I've got to be up early.
2am. Still sore.
3am. Still sore.
4am. For fucks sake.
6.30am. Oh I must be getting better.
Thank God hubby is getting the kids breakfast.
Need extra time in bed.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll just walk them to the end of the street and then come back home to lay down.
Of course hubby doesn't have to miss his breakfast meeting.
I’ll be fine!
I really should get up and make lunches.
Oh but it hurts.
Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just a bug and I have to make lunches.
Ok I’m up.
Oh shit, no I’m not.
Why does it hurt so much?
This isn’t right.
It’s not a bug.
Where’s my phone?
Google – a.p.p.e.n.d.i.c.i.t.i.s
Read, read, gasp, read.
Hubby’s going to freak.
Don't be so stupid, just call him.
Sorry hon, but you’ll have to come home. I can’t walk properly.
I think it’s appendicitis.
What do you mean – how do I know? I’m a mother. We know things.
But maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe it’s cancer!
Why do I think everything is cancer?
I should go to hospital.
But it’s not an emergency, don’t be such a drama queen!
I’ll just see my GP.
He’ll know what to do.
Oh no. My kids are making their own lunches.
What kind of a mother lets her kids make their own lunches? Get up!
I'll just have to sit down to butter the bread.
This is a first world problem. Mothers in Africa don't stop just because they have a bit of pain.
Of course it’s a first world problem! It’s my problem and I live in the first world.
But Dad’s on his way to take you to school.
Are their bags packed properly?
I bet they didn’t brush their teeth.
Why do my kids hate being clean?
What the fuck is wrong with them?
Just get to the doctor, he’ll know what to do.
Sorry what? It is appendicitis? Oh. Acute appendicitis.
Do not make a joke about your appendix being cute, it’s not funny.
What? Surgery? Today?
Who’s going to pick the kids up from school?
I need my slippers from home.
What about their dinner?
I should have eaten breakfast.
Keyhole surgery sounds ok.
Walk in the park.
How long do I have to be in hospital?
A couple of days, that’s not too bad.
Are the boys’ uniforms clean?
What do you mean I can’t drive for a week?
What about footy training?
So glad I had a shower.
I should have shaved my legs.
Blegh, this hospital tea is bland.
Must remember to get some teabags from home.
I’m such a tea snob.
Oh it feels nice to lay down and do nothing.
Why don’t I rest during the day?
No-one would know.
Real mothers don’t rest during the day, idiot. That’s an urban myth.
Do I have to be naked under the gown?
Just bra-less? That’s doable.
Time for the drip to be inserted.
Show no fear – you’ve pushed babies out of your vagina woman!
Look away and pretend to be distracted.
She’s such a kind nurse!
I could never be a nurse.
What it’s time already?
Standard procedure. First world problem.
I’m going to be fine.
Why is it always so cold in the operating theatre?
How good does the heated blanket feel?
I need a blanket warmer at home – it’s like a warm hug.
Aren’t they going to ask me to count to ten or something?
Why are my kids here?
Wait, am I out already?
Keep your eyes open woman, they’re telling you about their day.
Turn to hug them.
No, no, no DO NOT turn! OW!
Let them know you’re ok.
Show no fear.
Ask hubby to take them home and switch off the light on the way out.
Aaah… drugged out bliss.
I should get some of this stuff for home.