Sick and Tired

As I type this I am surrounded by the sour aroma of day old puke- my favourite place on my favourite sofa was pretty decimated by a vomit bomb delivered with death defying precision by my 18month old. I need to scrub a little more, the lemon scent of detol has lost the battle currently to regurgitated veggie sausage and beans but I guess the worst thing is still I sit here.......

You have to understand I’m very, very tired, since 3a.m. this morning I was abandoned by my partner who sloped off to the spare room just as two little hot poorly boys turned up. The 18 month old squirming and moaning into a comfortable position.

‘Really?’ I questioned as he seemed to settle into a position that surely no one on this earth could find comfortable, his red hot head and hand dyer breath need to be sandwiched on my forehead, his body balanced on my hip bone, his legs wrapped around my middle and his tiny radiator hands clutching at hair, pyjamas, flesh whatever’s there.....

Any attempt at finding comfort myself, the slightest roll off my hip bone or sweep of my hair led to such an awfully sad whimper of a cry I just stayed  as still as possible enduring the pins and needles, numbness and general sleepless uncomfortableness – well that’s what mums do isn’t it?

The four year old added his own heat lamp to the situation by wrapping around both of us like a particular tricky Jenga game.

They both appeared to sleep with complete ease.

The next morning brought the usual, ‘Who can stay off work?’ questions – me this time, he did yesterday because I had a meeting I didn’t want to cancel, though today I was going to be observed and I’ve got so much to finish!

But for him..... well Thursday is his last day. He has to finish the handover of all the buildings he will never see built and say goodbye to the colleagues he will leave. Redundant.

Then decide.

What to do next? Should he stay at home while the kids are little and the economy is as shot as it is? It’d ease my guilt a bit but could he cope?

Last week, we took the four year old to his swimming lesson and on arrival realised we’d left his swimming trunks at home – in the heated discussion that followed my partner said,

‘I put them back in the bag last week!’

......and this gentle reader is what he meant, after last week’s lesson, like all the other lessons he has taken him to he screwed up wet trunks and towel in the bag and brought them home. He honestly thought that was all that is required; he had no idea if left they would be stinky and mouldy.

 He had no idea that I take them out of the bag launder aloe vera scent into them, dry them and replace them in the bag...........