As in most households with children, mornings were always hectic. Mum would be racing around getting ready for work and I would be doing my best to procrastinate in the hopes that if I wasn’t ready to go to kindy on time, I would actually manage to get the day off, which never happened, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
One particular morning, I was laying on my bedroom floor, colouring in, whilst still in my pyjamas, waiting for my mum to come busting in and yell at me to hurry up and get ready for kindergarten. The time ticked by and there was no sign of mum. I listened for her and couldn’t even hear her banging around in the kitchen. The kettle hadn’t even whistled yet.
I wandered off to her bedroom, thinking she must have gone back to sleep after switching off her alarm clock, but she wasn’t there. I quietly crept around the house in search of her, but couldn’t find her anywhere. Eventually, the only place left to look, was the bathroom.
Without thinking, nor with any consideration to privacy, I pushed open the door. At the time it was only my mum and I, so privacy was not really something that I had yet discovered, as there really wasn’t much need for it, in my opinion at least.
Mum was in the middle of dealing with her womanly needs. Of course I had no understanding of menstruation, so I had no real understanding to what was going on.
As the door swung open, mum snapped her head up to look at me. I paused and surveyed the situation. As my understanding was limited, all I was able to register was that my mum was bleeding, therefore, she was hurt. Obviously.
I gasped and turned on my heel to run off. Mum called for me, but I ignored her, as I made my way to the kitchen. I dragged a chair over to the kitchen bench and climbed up onto the counter in order to reach the high kitchen cabinet.
A few moments later, I once again burst through the bathroom door and handed mum an icy pole from the freezer and a band aid.
“Here you go mum, this will make it all better.”
Mum smiled “Oh, thanks Bub.”
She shooed me out of the bathroom and tended to her needs, which of course would have been eating her icy pole and applying the band aid.
I went off and got ready for school, one of the few days that I got myself organised without mum having to hound me. I was as good as gold all day, not wanting to make mum upset when she was obviously hurt.
I was too young for mum to explain the situation, so she milked it for all it was worth. I was so well behaved, as though it were the few weeks before Christmas, so mum made sure she dragged it out for as long as possible, though she later regretted that, as you will learn in the next story.
Even as a child, the understanding is that blood is usually the result of an accident and the more blood there is, the more painful it is, so in my mind my poor mother was seriously wounded and in a lot of pain. I thought she was really suffering. Mum was probably just relieved that I appeared not to be traumatised…until later.