Saturday, 29 June 2013

Swollen bellies and bumps (3)

It was a month before Esme's third birthday and before my baby was due. It was a scorching hot July day, the sort we rarely see. I was having a little party for Esme as I wasn't sure, if on her actual day, I might be giving birth.

There were about seven chatty mums and even more chirpy kids running in and out. The paddling pool was set up, the trampoline, painting, this and that.

We were all having fun; laughter emanated from each area of play. It was a relaxed scene to say the least. Until...

14-month-old Johnny in the buff in the hallway, in a world of his own with some toy cars, suddenly produced a perfect dollop of poo. On the door mat. 

Simultaneously, one of the children decided to go AWOL with one of the paint pens, so in a flash our harmonious gathering turned frenetic mad moment. We were all up and running in circles of chaos, giggling stupidly. That was the mums. The kids stood still, staring, wondering. 

I hurried toward the house to fetch kitchen roll to pick up said poop and wipe said paint. 

Now I'm not sure why what happened next did, but I do know being massively pregnant, my feet had disappeared and my brain was fuddled. In my haste, I stepped towards the front door and soiled mat, and then quite accurately, into the poo. And when I say into the poo... 

...I mean into the poo. I squidged its entire being through each of my toes, so that it squelched in between them all on that one foot, as if I was at the beach, playing in the sand at the waters edge. 

Time stood still for a few moments as all of us mums tried to comprehend what had just happened. We couldn't. Instead we chortled some more. 

My blooming belly heaved up and down so vigorously with each renewed burst of laughter, that one of my dear friends, took it upon herself to support me. I think she saw early labour coming on! 

She helped me sit, placing my feet in the pool to cool them off and calm me down. Although of course, (as only little Johnny's mum could have), she'd got a bowl of water and some soap, to scrub away at the leftovers on my foot first. 

So you see, sometimes friendship and all its beauty, can be bonded by a matter of bottoms too. Not just hearts.