We were away from home this week. The chef whisked both myself and the little human up to Lincolnshire to visit his Mother. I love it but I don’t always love the drive from Wales, Particularly with a toddler who doesn’t enjoy being contained. However, we headed off on Easter Sunday and the drive passed without too much panic & hysteria (Thank You Netflix and the new download function)
We spent Easter Monday at the seaside in traditional British fashion. Our friends were visiting a nearby town so the two families merged for the day. We ate chips by the seaside in the bracing cold wind, played on the sand, in the arcades and caught the sand train home. Fred ate too many sugary treats but everyone was happy. Including the parents, because Grandma offered to babysit and we all headed out to a local Italian for an early dinner. There we were, four sleep deprived adults desperately sharing a bottle of Italian white wine while shoving bruschetta into our mouths faster than the speed of light. All was fine when we returned home.
On Tuesday, we pottered. A wander around Skegness while Fred slept. He never sleeps. When we returned to Grandmas house I relished the 5 minutes to myself while someone else took his coat off, found him a snack and 75 toys to play with – you know the deal.
“Can somebody help me?” came a terrified scream from the lounge. I ran down the bungalows corridor to be greeted by the small one screaming and Grandma, well, Grandma didn’t know what to do first, grab the child or clean the bright yellow sick from her beautiful woolen carpet.
The next few day’s passed in a blur. I announced that Fred was on water for the foreseeable, the horror on the other side of the families faces – they love to eat. I think they thought I’d starve him by not allowing him to eat copious easter bunny and quaver combos for a whole day. My suspicions were confirmed when after dinner that night the chef was also sick. A bug had hit.
There isn’t a lot you can do for a sick toddler other than holding them, so hold him I did. This resulted in every item of clothing I had packed getting hit by toddler vom. Even that new embroidered top I’d harped on about. I got myself dressed, I felt pretty good and boom. Covered.
We stayed an extra day up North. Thankfully I didn’t succumb to the bug. I’m not sure whether the body actually realises that you can’t succumb. As if it somehow knows you are needed to care for others so it will give you a break but it did just that. I managed to get them both in a cramped car and navigate the 5.5hour drive home on Thursday. The only casualty was the catering van. Our business has got very busy and we desperately need another unit for year 2. We found her and were supposed to detour via Derbyshire on our way home (no prizes for guessing that Derbyshire is NOT on the way back).
Everything gets’s put on hold when the sickness hits. You can’t ask people for help, you need containment and as a result, everything that we usually do went to the wall. Nothing was written, I had to manage the catering business alone, I even did ALL the cooking.
Day’s were split between juggling work and consoling the littlest member of the family. Nights were long, calpol filled and sticky. This is why parents need to wear superhero capes at all times. I don’t need to leave the house to work and I still barely survived the week. How working parents or lone parents do it I’ll never know. I guess you just step up to the plate. You suck it up and move forward.
I hope the sickness is now behind us. I’ve cleaned everything within an inch of its life and prayed to all gods who will listen. As I type this the late evening sun is streaming through the window and I just have a feeling that next week will be good, It’s like an internal sigh of relief but you never know eh. Until then I’ll keep my fingers crossed and enjoy the extra mummy cuddles.