So a couple of years ago we were staying with my parents over the Christmas break. Geoff and my oldest brother Will had taken George and Sass up to the harbour to fish and Elle and I were meeting them up there. (Mum had kindly tipped a good amount of tonic water out of the 300ml bottle and topped it up with Hendrick's gin for me to take. As it turned out, I needed that drink!!)
On the drive to the harbour Elle was saying she had managed to get a tampon in but that it was really uncomfortable. Now as it happens, I've spent her entire lifetime working with a brand of feminine protection, so these conversations are well within our comfort zone. I simply explained it probably wasn't in far enough and she needed to push it up further.
Once we arrived, Elle had a go at 'adjusting' but was still whinging so I sent her back to the loo with the instruction to just take the tampon out. Minutes later she was back, white, sweating and threatening to pass out. 'I can't get it out...' she's almost crying. Good grief. 'Okay,' I say, reminding myself I've dealt with far worse crises. 'I'll come with you as you'll just be pulling the string at the wrong angle.'
'Everything okay?' asked my brother Will, cheerily.
'All good!' I replied, matching his cheeriness.
I took Elle back to the corrugated oval structure that is the public toilet - with enough room to hold a small party! She plonked back on the loo, in serious danger of fainting. I tried to coach her through it, even sliding down into a sitting position with my back against the wall next to her to demonstrate the angle (with pants up!!) but she was now so distressed nothing was budging.
Next minute there was a crunching of gravel and a knock on the corrugated iron door - it's Uncle Will. 'Everything alright?' he called out - although it wasn't necessary for him to raise his voice as the structure provided no sound proofing what so ever. Elle was almost hyperventilating. I opened the door a crack and whispered 'All fine - secret women's business....' with a very earnest and hopefully imploring look.
'Oh,' he said, bewildered and wondered off. And I still wasn't certain that he wouldn't be coming back.
All demonstration and coaching options had now been expended so there was nothing for it - I was going to have to fish that sucker out myself.
In a moment of clarity, I realised my best approach was to turn my back to Elle rather than head in head first. I reached down and got her to pass me the string and within a nanosecond, the offending tampon was out and she was breathing again.
Back at the wharf the fish-fishing was proceeding in a relaxed manner as I grabbed my tonic bottle and glugged it down fast, wondering where in the manual of being a mother it mentioned the removal of recalcitrant tampons??!
