It all starts out innocently enough.
We’re reading ‘bout Madeline.
Who’s having a grand ole’ time.
That is... until we get to the apex,
and they up and remove her appendix!
“What’s an appendix Mama?”
“Oh, it’s a part of the body that’s not really necessary. Every once and a while it gets blocked and has to come out. I had mine out. Daddy’s had his out. It’s not a big deal, and it doesn’t happen to everyone”
“I don’t want my appendix out! I want it IN! I’m too SHORT to take out my appendix... Agh...Aghh!!
Tiz’ is starting to panic.
“Like I said, it doesn’t happen to everyone. It’s not really something to worry about.”
“No fix my ‘pen-nix!” Zip chants
“You see these wiggly toes mama?”
Tizzy’s calm once again and he’s looking down at his feet. “These wiggly toes make my appendix SORE!”
“Then I suggest you don’t wiggle them.”
I decide that it’s time to prevail.
So resume with the telling of tale.
Sadly, we hardly get very far,
when she up and announces her scar!
O.K... So, I’m no Ludwig Bemelmans. What I’m trying to say here is that it’s hard to make much headway in this book!
“A scarf Mama? Where’s her scarf?”
“A scar honey. It’s the mark that’s left on your body when they take out your appendix. See, I have...”
I lift up my shirt, but can’t find mine. It’s been replaced by stretch marks.
“Well, anyway, it would be right about here.”
“Mama, my scarf holds my belly button on!” Exclaims Tizzy, making his belly expand and contract.
Zip is thrusting his pelvis and growling, “ERR - EEE - ERR - EEE! No Touch My Scarf!”
If they only knew that it’s not the appendix or the scarf they need to worry about, it’s their mother.
Well, maybe not their mother. My mother.
I was nineteen when I felt the tale-tell signs of my appendix rupturing. I was a nanny at the time and was with the kids when the pain hit. Kind of like a minor birthing contraction, but with no relief. It seemed to be on my right side, but it was hard to tell.
“I think I need to go to the hospital,” I told the kids father, when he arrived home.
“Are you pregnant?” He asks.
Before I knew it, I was waking up to a room full of flowers, my friends, and my mother.
“You had us worried,” they said. “We just saw you yesterday, and you were fine!”
“There’s someone else who saw you yesterday,” my mother said slyly, “and he very well may come to see you in the hospital.”
My mother knew I had a huge crush on the bagger at the grocery store where I shopped for my employers. He was funny and cute, and somehow I always ended up in his line.
“That’s right,” she confessed.
“I thought you might need some cheering up. I went into the store, and I told him, ‘You know that pretty blonde that comes in here with the three small children? She’s my daughter, and she has a mad crush on you. She just had her appendix out and I thought it might be nice if you came up to visit her in the hospital. You would make her feel soooo much better.”
I thought I would die.
“What?” she asked, registering the shock on our faces. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
My recovery was especially painful knowing that I was going to have to go back to work soon and face the checker.
“Me? Appendix? No. I’ve just gotten back from a long vacation. What? Some woman claiming to be my mother? Don’t know her. Sounds like a crazy person!”