Who knew I would go through so many emotions within a three minute phonecall from nursery? It’s 10.30am on Monday morning & this is the truth behind my conversation
“Hello, headmistress here. It’s about Little Mister. I don’t want to alarm you“
Ok, stop right there. You just have, nursery. Firstly, you’re the headmistress, so this is serious. Secondly, everyone know the words ‘don’t want to alarm you’ is polite code for ‘be alarmed’
“Little Mister was just in the toilet…”
My mind is racing. What’s happened? He’s hasn’t had an accident in months and he has spare clothes in his rucksack. Or was it someone else, has someone else done something ….my heart starts racing now
“…and he did a poo. We know it’s his because he didn’t flush…”
Typical, I think, but still why the need to track down the culprit of the non-flush within a group of 3 & 4yr olds?
“…and we asked the friends he was playing with if they’ve just been to the toilet and they all confirmed it was Little Mister”
OK, so now this is either a really big poo or they’re cracking down hard on the no-flush thing. Why should I be alarmed? Maybe his poo was just huge. And his poor friends, lining up to undergoing poo interrogation. But the conversation continues
“we haven’t flushed it as I didn’t know if you’d want to come take a look…”
This is a surreal conversation I’m having with the headmistress. Yes, this has gone straight to the top of surrealism. **Please, get to the point!!* I’m screaming in my head
“…because there’s something reddish in his poo & urine; his poo is quite red. I don’t know if it’s blood but it maybe worth looking at and getting checked out”
There it is. Wollop. The killer punch. The words that just stop me dead.
“We haven’t said anything to Little Mister apart from to confirm that it is his poo, although we do have him playing quietly with Mrs A for the time being. Although he seems absolutely fine. Has this ever happened before?”
I’m in shock. Those words. Blood & urine. This is serious; the TV infomercials are the first thing that pops into my head. Shit, shit, shit *no pun intended. Promise* I’m starting to panic
“Did you spot anything over the weekend” continues the headmistress
I’m speed scanning my weekend memory at the same time starting to beat myself up about not watching him go to the toilet any more, even though he is 4yo. We went to the park; we watched a movie, we had mezze for lunch…
And there it is. The mezze.
Lunch was a lazy affair, and I put on the table whatever could be eaten with our fingers; pitta bread, hummus, olives, beetroot, carrot, mini sausages. It was the beetroot. Little Mister loves fresh beetroot, just slightly warmed no vinegar. He ate four or five large beetroot followed by a set of berries we picked a the PYO. That’s why his insides are a screaming pinkish-red colour.
I have noticed it before. When his nighttime wee was pale pink I did what we all do when we’re worried; I called my mum. She calmed me down and helped me work it out.
I breathed, I laughed and I breathed again “It’s ok nursery, it’s only the beetroot”
I'm Tracey, nice to meet you. Mummyshire was 'born' three years ago after we moved from London to the Oxford countryside. Here I chart our journey adjusting to our new lives, the challenges of being in the countryside & surviving parenthood.