Relief

If you ever suffer from constipation, Dulcolax will do ya. Well. It will do most of ya, I should say. I don’t like having to resort to it too often, though. Please be warned: do not take Dulcolax before heading off to work. There is a chance you (and your co-workers) will be displeased.

Yesterday, in a bind (pun intended), I contemplated running to Whole Foods to pick me up a box of the Smooth Move Tea, thinking that would be a natural alternative to my dillemma. I didn’t want to make a run out in the cold, though, and for some reason, will stand and stare at the Smooth Move Tea, but never purchase it. That’s me. The lady, standing in isle. Contemplating. Since I had the Dulcolax at hand and I was already at the point of needing some relief, I bit the mental bullet of indecisiveness and popped two of them. Normally I take one. I don’t know what posessed me to pop two. Desperation? Insanity?

Within a few hours I felt something stir in my abdomen. Gas, surely. Another hour and the cramping began. An hour later I was in the bathroom. Relieved. Yes, yes, how DO you spell “relief” — I say D-U-L-C-O-L-A-X. Relieved and foolishly thinking that would be the end of it all. Within 15 minutes I was back in the bathroom. Again. Surely now, I was done.

After tucking the kids in, I settled into bed and started reading my book. Franny, read his book alongside me for a while, before setting it down.

“You know, Finn has a half-pipe in his backyard.” He said. He likes to read before bed, like I do. But when he’s done reading, he enjoys a little conversation before he shuts his eyes. This is usually always when I’ve got my nose buried in my book. “He has one, and it’s really cool, but he had it covered up so I didn’t get–”

What was that?

My goodness, it was ME. A gurgling, churning whoosh of–? I set my book down and excused myself from the conversation, making a charge to the bathroom. A few seconds after I closed myself inside I heard my husband’s muffled voice ask if I was OK. I confirmed that all was OK… probably, and that this was the opposite of my earlier problem. And I sat. In the bathroom. For a good quarter hour. Having already read the back of the lotion bottle enough times to memorize it, I stared at my nails. Thought about my day… pondered on how grateful I was that the two orange pills I took had been taken at a time that, once they worked through my body, I had an available bathroom and it was in my own home. Thankful that I was not still at the grocery store. Or out shoveling snow… Continued to be thankful that I had not waited until morning to take them, ending up exploding in the middle of a work day.

Which is why I write a kind caution to you, my friend, on those little orange pills. I know. I know. How kind and thoughtful of me. Take one for the team, I have.

By the time I returned to the conversation with my son, he was nearly asleep. I apologized for speeding out like that; he thought nothing of it.

. . .

The boys have wrestling tonight. Thank goodness we can go THERE and have them beat the tar out of each other instead of it being in our house each night. The obsession with wrestling has been contagious, spreading from Lootie to the twins to DT in the matter of a year. Last year it was just Loo wrestling. The twins showed interest, but we didn’t sign them up. Lootie had a good year, winning the majority of his matches. After the season was over, he became obsessed (because with Lootie it is all or nothing) with John Cena and WWE. He even went to see them when they came to Milwaukee.

Lootie at WWE in Milwaukee (on Picasa)
Over summer the 3 youngest went to a wrestling day-camp and fell in love with the sport, and this winter the oldest was sucked in, too. I guess it is good that they all enjoy it, like soccer, it gives them a common joy and interest. But my house literally shakes at times, from the commotion going on in the bedroom. Frank’s all, They’re boys — they’re having fun. And I’m a nervous poodle forming an ulcer from worry.Ciao.

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