***FANFARE PLAYS, PARTY POPPERS BANG, CHAMPAGNE CORKS POP, MUMMY DANCES AROUND THE LIVING ROOM****
Or in other words, Grace is feeling better. We have finally seen off the horror that is gastroenteritis. We’ve kicked its ass.
HIIIIIGH-YA! Karate chop – Take that stomach bug!
WAP-POW! Left hook, right hook – Have at you dehydration!
KA-BLAAAAM! Fires cannon – Be gone diarrhoea!
I’ve got my little girl back. She’s smiling, singing, toddling about, bashing and gabbling and eating and dancing. Thank goodness for that.
5 days it went on for. 5 whole days, two trips to hospital, countless nappy/clothes/bedding changes, and very little sleep for Mummy. I was given the choice of giving her hourly doses of rehydration liquid with a syringe through the night, or putting her on a drip. No brainer really, the syringe it was. It was worth it to make my baby well again but MAN I’m tired. Over the past week every single item of bedding has been covered in vomit or diarrhoea. Every pair of little pyjamas, every blanket, a million outfits of Mummy’s, the car seat, the dogs and the (brand new leather reclining) sofa have all come under fire too. The sofa incident was particularly unfortunate. Her nappy leaked so badly it ran down the back of the sofa, which subsequently had to be dismantled and disinfected. Only I could spend a fortune on a swanky new piece of furniture and manage to get it covered in sh*t when it’s less than a week old. Actual sh*t.
Just to throw some extra chaos into the mix, during this nightmare week, we got a phone call from the tiler who was finally ready to lay our kitchen floor. We had to let him as we’d literally been waiting months for the job to get done. So the entire contents on the kitchen has been moved into the living room giving it a very jumble-sale-meets-How-Clean-Is-Your-House type of look. NIGHTMARE.
And the cherry on the cake? Tired and drained I pack the little one into the car to go for her check up, and promptly reverse out the drive and smack into the tiler’s van. B**locks. So that’s a few hundred extra quid on the bill.
I’d like a break now please. I’d like a nice uneventful, puke-free, calm and chilled out weekend, preferably involving a perfectly behaved, healthy toddler, a few Gin and Tonics and nice weather.
And a handsome rugged man of loveliness stripped to the waist sorting the back garden out while I sunbathe in the previously mentioned nice weather, with previously mentioned G&T.
And a lottery win.
And a really big bar of chocolate.
IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK???