Nurse Mummy

Before I had kids, I never realised how much medical intervention was involved in Mothering. The closest I've ever come to any kind of medical training was a Health lesson on "Doing CPR" in High School.

Since becoming a mother I couldn't tell you how many times I have had to assess injuries, administer First Aid and care for the sick and (purportedly) dying.

I have become an expert at scraping vomit off carpet and wiping fevered brows.

Feel like you want to puke again? Quick grab the icecream container; I'll hold your hair back. A cut lip gushing blood? No probs. Wet a clean flannel and suck on it (that'll stop the bleeding in no time). Stubbed toes crusted with dried blood, grit and debris? A job for the Dettol and a plaster.

We mummies know that there's almost nothing a plaster and a sweetie can't cure. And a bandage? Even better.
How many times have you stuck a huge bandage on a tiny scratch because it makes the wounded soldier feel soooo much better? (Oh OK, only me then?)

How many times have you had to hold down a wriggling screaming toddler long enough to take their temperature (Hold the thermometer under their armpit, with their arm pinned firmly to their side)??? Only to then have to fight them tooth and nail to get 10mls of sticky Pamol down their gob without them spitting it out and spraying it across everything in sight?

How many times has hubby opted to sleep in a sick kid's bed so you can share yours with the Vomiter/Feverish One? (or is that just us?)

I don't know about you but our medical box holds things I had never even heard of before becoming a mother. Arnica. Hydrocortisone. Phenergan. Dimetapp. Robicomb.

Bandages in all shapes and sizes. Dettol disinfectant and antiseptic cream and antibacterial hand gel.

I've had to deal with broken arms and toes, jammed fingers & banged up ankles; stitches and spelks and fevers and compylobacter, phlegm and snot and vomit and poo. All things which would have made me heave as a single gal.

How many times as a young mother did I take my baby to the Starship Childrens Hospital in the middle of the night? Countless. I was so paranoid that every fever and rash could be meningitis or pneumonia or ebola. But it was always Something Viral. All they ever gave us was Paracetomol - and we were sometimes waiting there for 4 hours before they dispensed this wisdom. I should have stayed home and let the kid have a decent night's sleep.

Dash must have been rushed to Starship at midnight at least six times.
Miss Fab (A.K.A. Princess)... maybe twice, but to Mercy Private Hospital (what's 20 bucks for a mere 20 minute wait in the middle of the night?)
Scrag??? Never. He has so far never been rushed anywhere in the middle of the night.

I am an accomplished mother of three. I have an organised well-stocked medicine box. I know how to take the temperature of a wriggling toddler and sneak that Paracetomol down his gob. I know how to bandage scratches and bumps so they look really impressive. I'm good at cuddles and wiping tears and snot and holding vomit bowls.
By now I can tell when my medical skills are enough and when I need to call the Ambulance.
So far so good.


P.S. My medical skills have been great demand this week. There's been plenty of puke flying, toes being stubbed and lips being gashed. Even a bee sting. Thank goodness I have a really great medicine box. xx