As I write this, from what I am sure is to be my death bed (I promise, I am totally not being over dramatic), I am trying to remember when everyone in this house was last fighting fit.
It seems a very long time ago indeed.
If it isn’t one child or the other suffering from the side effects of teething, there is a lurgy of some description hanging around.
I swear these kids must go around licking peaky-looking strangers when I’m not there, as since at least the beginning of October there has been an almost constant stream of illnesses and snotty noses in this house.
It’s getting a bit boring now.
She vomited all the time due to reflux so it wasn’t all fun and games but in terms of communicable diseases, I’m fairly certain she had one or two relatively minor colds in her first year.
Sadly for my poor little boy and, by extension, the rest of us, she now goes out to the childminder’s, toddler groups and sweaty soft play venues, and harvests germs to bring home to share with her loving family.
It started out with a nasty bout of croup which took us all out for a while – me with laryngitis which is the adult version, without the seal-like bark. It was an exceptionally quiet week with no functioning larynges (yes, that’s the plural – I googled it) in the house. The toddler suffered very badly to the point where she willingly gave up her dummy (for good, as she was to discover) as she could not breathe properly with it in.
That time, the baby seemed to escape with just a bit of a croak – it was possible, the doctor concurred, that in breastfeeding him I had inadvertently taken one for the team. His luck has since changed. We’ve had cold after cold with a few tummy bugs thrown in for good measure. Recently the baby had an ear infection which made him excellent company, at every single hour of the day and night.
Having a poorly child is awful.
As a parent, it is your duty to stay up all night mopping befevered brows and syringing calpol into mouths (and then nurofen too if it’s bad bad) like your life depends on it, then you’re pretty much confined to the house during the day which is never a recipe for fun.
Playdates are a no-no; turning up to a friend’s house with an ill child is akin to taking a big dump on their doorstep. If it’s just a bog standard cold and the child (and you) are up to it, a trip to the park for a bit of fresh air might be acceptable, but confined spaces should be avoided, after all that’s probably what got you into this and it is a brazen move to willingly inflict this hell on other parents. I suppose it depends how easily you deal with the glares and the whispers. For us, it’s on the sofa, cuddles, Frozen on DVD and Peppa Pig ad infinitum.
As well as being physically knackering, ill children also take it out of you emotionally. I know when I have a sick child, I swing between feeling utterly helpless, like I’m are going to die because I love them so much and I can’t explain why this is happening, or do anything more to help ease their suffering… and just wishing they would stop whining and take a nap rather than spitting out the damn medicine.
Even worse than one poorly child is two.
Tandem whining is particularly delightful between the hours of 1 and 4am I find.
Worse still is two sick kids and a poorly husband. If that happens, you’ll need lots of wine to cope.
How long is there until summer?