Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Nothing like a sick kid to turn your week to shit. Monday morning I drop off a slightly snotty but otherwise very happy Poppy to daycare for 5 hours so I can go home and *study*. Well by studying I generally mean doing a lot of procrastinatory cleaning whilst thinking about studying but nevertheless I get things done. Clean house? - tick. A few uni notes typed on the computer? Tick. Another email to my other group assignment studens who A: never get back to me or B: have bizarre chinese email addresses that constantly bounce back my attempts to communicate? tick.
A quick shop, a last admiring glance around the house and I hop in the car feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. The smile I have is quickly wiped off my face as I arrive in the Goldfish room to fine a sweaty, snotty and very unconcious Poppy in a baby rocker with a disapproving carer staring at me and saying something about her not having socks. When I ask why they didn't call me when they realised she was sick they say 'oh we didn't want to worry you' before continuing to ask about socks. She then says "how long has she been sick?" I start to shout "she wasn't sick, if she was I wouldn't have brought her here" before realising there is no point and decide to leave.
I grab my sweaty bundle in an outrage, walk into home and all hell breaks loose. Poppy wakes up, starts screaming, panadol is searched for, boxes ripped open, packets discarded on the floor, snot everywhere, food rejected and discarded, clothes whipped off, and a very disheveled me marooned on the couch with a sad lump of a baby who does. Not. Want. To. Be. put. down. For.One.Second.
By the time Ed makes it home I am collapsed on the couch like an exhausted zombie, covered in snot, mess littered from one end of the house to the other, patting sick Popper on the bottom like it was the only thing keeping us both alive.
Next comes what I like to call "Mummy's delight" yes - it starts with a little scratch in the throat, an ache in the bones and then before you can say 'share and share alike' you too are struck down with exactly the same lurgy. And here's the really fun bit, unlike in childless times gone past where I could just head for my bed, call my boss and stay there til I felt okay, I get to be up and down all night long, and then get rewarded with not just one cranky child at home the next day but two. Ivy is feeling quite fine and in the midst of all the screaming and coughing and crying (and that's just from me) cheerily enquires "what will we be doing tomorrow Mummy?"
I don't answer but I already know. There will be coffee, lots of coffee for me. And a hell of a lot of something called ABC kids, for her. Happy days, and fun times ahoy.