After last weeks overnighter in hospital with Mini Cheddar which put a stop on her birthday week (poor little love) I was kind of hoping for a bit of a break. The sun is finally shining and it's warm enough to step out in a t-shirt pretty much. But no, someone had other plans for me this week.
Early evening yesterday I started to feel really nauseous. Then the stomach cramps hit. Bugger.
I thought I'd gotten away with it! Apparently there are 3 hospitals in the area I live that are shut now due to the dreaded norovirus so I guess my chances were slim. I've already boarded the train to Vomit Ville and it ain't stopping.
|Complete with hospital sick bowl|
So, a truly awful nights sleep last night along with severe vomiting at 3.30am, here I am.
As I lay here on the bed feeling a little sorry for myself, I'm actually feeling more sorry for Mini Cheddar. Not only did we have to cut her days out for her 2nd birthday short last week, then the poor mite had to be put on a drip as she couldn't keep any fluid down at all....now here she is fully recovered but stuck in bed with me.
Not only that, my husband is now trying to jump on my sickness bandwagon complaining that his tummy feels 'dodgy'. Didn't stop him wolfing toast and a coffee this morning though did it? Or stop him going to the chippy last night. Why can't I just be ill on my own and be nursed properly?
He's just offered to get Mini Cheddar dressed. It's 11.30am. I've just been presented with the first question "What shall I put her in?"
"I'm sure you can choose an outfit for her" I shout from my sick bed.
I'm wondering what on earth she'll appear from her room wearing. Men really have no idea.
Then comes the next one..."I think she may have poo'ed'.
"Well change her nappy"
"Does she need a vest on?"
"That depends what (bloody awful) outfit you dress her in!"
Ill or full of health, we never stop being mothers do we?
Actually, I really want my mum right now (I always do when I'm ill) but I don't want her to catch the train too.