The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Friday, 3 August 2012
The Moth and The Chamber Pot.
I spent what I consider a considerable amount of time simply maneuvering myself out of the bath like something more reminiscent of a creature from some Japanese horror story of revenge and doom than the glowing earth mother I am in my mind. Having relaxed and feeling rather proud of managing to hoist myself from the bath I suddenly felt an onset of unusual pains. Embracing my inner big screen demon I wandered around a little, sat on the sofa, had a crack at bouncing on the exercise ball. Imagine if someone shagged one of the zombies from 'The Walking Dead' and got it pregnant then then left it to get on with it in an airy flat by the sea. Imagine a potential victim of Jeremy Kyle, who even he couldn't find the right synonym for 'scum' because, well, she's dead and trying to eat him. Now that would make daytime TV far more interesting but that's a whole other story.
Back to my toilet/moth story. Feeling tired after all that undead action I headed to my chamber pot only to find that even this would be a challenge to face. When will it stop? Still feeling unusual I reclined and realised nothing was happening down there, other than the original pain. I would apologise for too much information but if you didn't get a vibe for the subject matter from the heading I refuse to take responsibility for your lack of responsibility. Already uncomfortable, it was at this point I fell off the toilet seat, which appears to have broken somehow. Probably because of my massive arse or belly weighing it down. After 9 months it has just given up. Oh, the irony.
This pretty much covers the whole toilet fiasco, except for an uninvited guest. The moth. It may have been a tiny beast but it seemed determined to make my afternoon toilet adventure even more eventful. So, here I am at now over 9 months pregnant, in a bath towel, looking and acting like a zombie on the toilet. Falling off it, getting back on. Fighting a moth all the way through Read into that whatever metaphor you will. I am just wondering whether Beyonce was in the same boat as she prepared to head to the hospital floor she had rented with her millions.
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