Me, my cold and I

The chocolate icing cure.

Today is a sick day. And I remembered, at three in the morning when I lay croaking pathetically and choking down a Lemsip – dudes, when I am ill, I mean it – that sick days don’t exist with a baby. Writing down this hoary old parenthood cliche almost made my fingers seize up, but just because something’s been said a lot by many people, some of whom are annoying, doesn’t make it less true (this is a LIFE LESSON; write it down).

So at 6.30am Henry started his I-think-I’m-awake-but-am-I-really hooting noise, which by 7.30am was the bored-of-my-cot yelling, and from then it was all

oh bananas I love them – but do I really – yes I do – wait that’s enough – ooh lights! – water running yessss – hang on a min there’s the washing machine – ok done with being wet now – enough with the towel rubbing already – vest? outrageous – oh good a bottle – pick me up pick me up pick me up – BRING ON THE MILK I’M READY WOMAN

which is our usual morning routine.

During which I felt even more pathetic, and was considering starting up a bit of low-level moaning. Except that if you moan and there’s no one there to hear it – no one who’s not currently half-in the washing machine, I mean – does the moan exist?

A deep question. That’s the Lemsip talking.

In the end I didn’t moan. Because two things occurred to me:

1. Timothy will be home later.

2. At some point today, Henry will sleep. And so will I.

It made me think about all you single parents and parents of more than one. How do you do it? I am in awe of you and your resources and your wonderfulness. Can we all just applaud for a moment?

Hope you heard it. That was for you.

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7 thoughts on “Me, my cold and I

  1. The first time I was sick with two kids all three of us the flu. The vomit until you are retching with your toes flu. And I am still not sure how we survived. It was miserable and probably very close to what hell on a rainy day feels like. Oh my goodness.

    I hope you feel better, I hope Henry stays well, I hope Timothy gets home and puts you in a long, hot bath.

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    • Yikes, that sounds horrendous! Throwing up is bad at the best of times without all three of you doing it :-( Feel a lot better today, thanks – though I have still decided against the morning jog. You know. You cannot be too careful.

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  2. Oh, poor Rach! That sounds absolutely miserable. I hope you feel better soon; this is decidedly a hot soup and sympathy situation. Sadly, our lack of proximity renders any and all soup-giving efforts moot; however, know that you have my sympathy in oodles (although, as noted above, I cannot offer any sympathetic hair-patting). I hope you get lots of rest and maybe even a Sick Day Treat (because illness can be compensated for, however modestly, by treats).

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    • Aw, thank you for the lovely sympathy – easily as good as soup! I got a Relief Society meeting as my sick-day treat, but I did spend all of the day prior to that on the sofa under a duvet :-) Best place to be!

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  3. Hope you feel better! When you’ve got more than one, you learn to gauge how ill you are. There are 3 levels – most frequently applied is number one – well enough to carry on in a vague approximation of what absolutely HAS to be done. Things like the school run and feeding and clothing small people. Second is ask grandparents/friend/anyone to do the lunchtime pick up from school and ask/hope they’ll offer to take the little one too. Third, and most serious, ask the husbnad to come home. I’ve not had to use that one yet.

    Then of course there’s the very rare secret 4th option, make a very vague phonecall the NHS direct for advice and come around to ambulance lights flickering. I’ve only done that once thakfully, and I’d already employed ‘ill level 2′ so the kids weren’t around. And it wasn’t exactly, you know, planned!

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    • This is an excellent system! Unfortunately I seem to be lingering in level one for the time being. Will bear in mind for the future though.

      Sorry about your ambulance experience – sounds scary! Were you ok?

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      • Oh yes, I was fine thank you, It turned out to be an insane migraine, they thought I was having a stroke and kept me in overnight for observation, then let me home in the morning, I was quite out of it for most of the time, I remember Rich arriving at the hospital but not ringing him, stuff like that.

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