This week it is half term, obviously. I only found it was half term last week when some friends were talking about it, and I recoiled in horror at the words on my screen telling me my daughter would be home all week with me, and no I wouldn’t be getting all that planned work done. They only just went back didn’t they?? (Funnily enough I remember my mum thinking the same thing #officiallyold)
When I had finally recovered from the shock and wondered at what point in my mum-hood life I would be aware of when it is a school holiday, I thought about what a nice week we could have together and planned out a few activities. These included but were not limited to; swimming, going to the cinema, potentially going to a blogging thing in Birmingham and A’s first train ride, and visiting my beautiful friend’s beautiful new baby. I was excited; anxious about not having time to work, but happy at the thought of spending quality time with my girl.
Of course, life is a bastard, and after us all having very. bad. colds (woe is us) for weeks and just kind of, almost, getting to the end of them, last night Ava fell asleep at around half past six before she had even had her dinner. I figured she was just extremely tired after weeks (WEEKS, I TELL YOU) of being up coughing in the night. But alas, when she was still asleep at 10.30am this morning I knew it was not to be.
She woke up crying at 10.45am, hadn’t heard me through the monitor apparently, reassuring her I was on my way and was very upset. She told me a bit afterwards that she had said to me through the monitor that she thought she was going to be sick. At that point I just thought that it was because she had been coughing a lot. It wasn’t.
I took her downstairs and got her settled with a blanket and the tv on the sofa. She quickly asked for the tv to be turned off as she wanted to sleep. She couldn’t get back to sleep though (understandably, as she had just slept for like a year) and then asked for some toast. She ate a little bit and then threw up and whilst mopping her sweaty brow, I thought “oh goody gum drops, we’re back here again already”. She continued to lay on the sofa all day until it was quickly her bedtime and I of course had got very little work done, she was sick twice more (when your child is being sick after not eating anything for 24 hours, and you know what that burning pain in your throat feels like, and they are laying limp in your arms, you would do anything to take it away from them, and then you know you’re a good mum/dad, and all is well with the world, ish), and then we took her up to bed after she fell asleep after she asked for more toast but didn’t get chance to eat it.
And so here we are. As Tuesday slowly rolls into Wednesday, and I curse myself for deciding to use Monday to get some work done and tidy the house when we could have done one of the things I had planned for us. But I’m reminded in these sickness-filled miserable times that we are so lucky that generally my girl is healthy and we don’t have to cradle our poorly child so often; that it’s tough while it lasts, but she will get better, and things will go back to normal quickly (until 3 weeks later when it happens again).
I’m sure I’d be complaining that my own week had been ruined if she had got poorly whilst it wasn’t the school holidays, so it’s probably a good thing that we don’t have to worry about letting nursery know she won’t be in, and we can just chill at home, and get her better on our own time.
It’s just life isn’t it. Getting poorly is crap whatever is happening that week, we just think we’ve always got a bum deal. I was just so looking forward to a lovely week with my little girl. But instead, I’ll snuggle her up close, hold her hair back and go running into her as fast as my legs will carry me every time she so much as utters the tiniest noise. I will ignore the fact that her breath smells FOUL, and that I think she got sick on my leggings after it ran down her leg onto mine, and I haven’t had chance to change them yet (blogging > getting sick off clothes), and I will be the best mummy I can be, to my poorly little bunny.