Note to self – Buy More Bed Linen

The 2 year old started the ball rolling by regurgitating an entire plate of Spaghetti Bolognese down himself and his bed. Apart from the unmistakable smell of sick, it actually looked like it had when I’d presented it to him at tea time. I took the role of chambermaid whilst my husband wiped him down. No sooner had we put him back to bed and settled down to watch TV then he was off again. We automatically assumed our previous roles of chambermaid and chief child cleaner and put him back to bed reluctantly.

We managed another hour without incident before turning in for the night. As I started to drift off I heard it. The ‘burble’. I probably heard it before the 2 year old even considered making it (mothers’ instinct) because I sprang out of bed like a psychotic frog (wearing, of course, just a pair of big knickers) and dashed across the hall to his room. The poor boy was whipped out of bed and held over the toilet to make his final retching of the night.

I wouldn’t have normally been so quick off the mark but we are not a family of plentiful bed linen. In fact the only times I think about stocking up on extra duvet covers, fitted sheets and pillow cases are during episodes like this.

As I got back into bed I received a text from teacher friend, mother of three which said;

‘Two sick children. Is it wrong to bathe your children in antibacterial hand wash?’

I felt a sense of comfort that we were experiencing synchronised puking at opposite ends of the village and glad that under the circumstances I only had one child to find sheets for and not two.
The next day the 4 year old arrived home from a birthday party. As she excitedly told us about the party and was about to tell us what she had eaten she was sick over the length and breadth of the two bottom stairs, her socks and my husband’s jeans. It was quite plain to see that she had in fact been eating Cheesy Wotsits and not much else. As he carried her to the downstairs loo she erupted again all over the carpet (more Cheesy Wotsits and a trace of Party Ring). My poor big little girl spent the rest of the night in the vicious circle of sipping water and then bringing it back up again. In order to save the bed linen which was still in various stages of washing machine/tumble dryer I made her lie on the sofa clutching a bowl until she fell asleep with her face in the bowl (she obviously understood the linen situation too).

I have discovered two things. Cleaning my children’s sick up is an automatic reflex. If it were anyone else’s I’d have had to wear a radiation suit and smear my nasal passages with Vicks VapoRub … and if you don’t remove all the lumps first they just come out of the washing machine clean and intact.

Oh, and I’m not sure … Is it wrong to bathe your children in antibacterial hand wash?

Whispering From The Squatting Position

It’s dark, except for the blue glow of the nightlight. I am crouching on the floor wearing only a pair of big knickers, fumbling around in a large plastic box. My son is sleeping less than a metre away ... I am quite clearly mad.

It all started as I was brushing my teeth last night. I had a brainwave. A plan that would secure me extra minutes of sleep in the morning. I decided that I would put together the 2 year olds wooden train track (complete with signals and trees) whilst he slept so that when he woke at 5.30am it would be the first thing he saw.

He would then spend time playing with his train set instead of waking me, lying between my husband and I head down, asking that I tickle his feet for 30 minutes before I agree to get up and make breakfast in a grumpy fashion.

So it came to pass that I had to fumble around in the box, with limited sight, seeking out the correct pieces by touch for my masterpiece. We have quite a lot of track, it took time.

I was disturbed only once by my husband stood in the doorway looking at me in my large pants. I whispered my plan to him from my squatting position and he went to bed without any questions. He’s clearly used to this sort of unusual activity.

I admit I got a little carried away. There were tunnels, the track went under his bed, round one of the legs and out again. We had junctions, farm animals, trees and signals. I proudly admired my tour de force by blue glow and went to bed.

The ‘trainwave’ earned me an extra 30 minutes of sleep the following morning, but was overshadowed by the fact that it took me 30 minutes to assemble when I could have been sleeping the night before.

I’m now on a quest for a new morning distraction, it has to have the wow factor of not being in his bedroom before he went to bed and take me 2 minutes to arrange. I have made the following ‘extra sleep’ calculations … Mr Potato Head; 10 minutes, cars and garage; noise + 20 minutes, chunky farm jigsaw; 5 minutes before he loses interest.

I think I may have peaked too early, I should have saved the trains till last.

30 minutes of upside down feet tickling for me tomorrow.