It’s the end of June. It’s supposed to be warm. Today I’m cozied up in an oversized sweatshirt sipping warm apple tea.

My kids are quiet. One on the tablet – with headphones – the other on the floor enclosed with toys.

Last night the older child woke screaming and crying in pain. Her right side in the front and the back hurt. We took her to the e.r. to be told that – 1. Our insurance doesn’t cover out of state visits and 2. It was…just gas….The doctor called it

TFS 

Twisted Fart Syndrome.

This is a great way to make me feel less of a shitty parent. When we arrived at the e.r. we asked again and again if she needed to go potty “no!” We checked in and found seats in the waiting room. She immediately lets out several loud farts and says “I gotta go potty… Right now.”

In my hurry I forgot her shoes.

So I maneuvered her onto the toilet where she proceeded to fart and pee. She said it still hurts when I pushed on it. So we returned to the waiting room. She snuggled on top of daddy still wriggling in pain.

We were taken back to the triage nurse where we reiterated her symptoms again. She continued to insist it still hurt. We were escorted to a room to wait for a doctor. While we waited she continued to fart and then insisted she

Needed to poop.

So, again, I took her to the bathroom. More farts and poop. We go back to the room to have the doctor feel her stomach and ask how she was feeling. My daughter says “I’m fine!” With a big smile.

You guys, we didn’t even get a sticker.

Just waiting for this large bill to tell me she had trapped gas and had to poop…