So, to say my weekend was eventful is putting things very lightly. I awoke Friday morning delighted with myself that it was finally Friday, no homework, or rushing for school runs or making packed lunches. No, the weekend had arrived and i was going to relax with the littlest one while the older ones could finally get outside and play in the fine weather. How wrong i was…
It started Friday afternoon, the littlest one began spiking a bit of a temperature, nothing major, but he just didn’t seem his usual smiley self. A spoon of Nurofen and about a half hour later the temp had come down and i thought great, it must be down to him being teething. He sat and played with his brothers, ate his dinner and i thought that was the end of it.
Later that evening, as i was getting him up from his nap, the child was red as a beetroot and spiking a temperature AGAIN. Oh, great. I managed to get him to take some Calpol this time, which by now he’s like a bear with a sore head. I take him outside, the cool air might bring it down faster. As i’m trying to entertain him outside, we’re watching the older kids playing across the way. The girl is on her bike while the boys are having a game f footie. Then it happens, i could already see it happening before it actually happened. The oldest and the girl collide, she goes flying off of her bike onto the road, he goes flying in the other direction, again onto the road.
The screams coming from the girl are the ones that make the blood in your veins run cold. I offload the baby to the hubbie and i run. I’m crap at running! I pick the girl up, she has a tiny cut on her hand, she says her knee is stinging. So with her in one arm, and the bike in the other we hobble back to the house. The oldest one is fine, he’s up and back playing footie with the rest. The girl is still crying a bit, that is until we lift the leggings off her knee and she sees the scrape that she has got underneath. Then all hell breaks lose, you would swear her leg would have to be amputated with the carry on of her! She screams at me not to touch it, while i’m trying to explain that i have to clean it and i promise to be gentle. She’s having none of it. I eventually bribe her, with a Minnie Mouse plaster and a chocolate chip cookie. Phew! One crisis averted. I check the little ones temp, it’s still not back to normal, but it is coming down slowly.
Finally bedtime arrived. Checked again on littlest ones temp. It’s back to normal. Great. or so i thought. An hour passed they’re all tucked up in bed sound asleep. The house is peaceful. Then out of no where the sound of vomiting can be heard coming from upstairs, we both bolt for the stairs. It must be the littlest one, that’s what the high temp as about, only it wasn’t. It was the 4 year old. He had just done an exorcist style puke all over the bed. We get him up, take him to the bathroom, he’s pale as a sheet but says he’s finished puking. I need to change the bed.
Now, my hot press or linen closet if that’s what you call it, is my nemesis. It’s a mess and it’s impossible to find anything in there. I open it and it’s like it’s laughing at me. ‘MMWHAHAHAHA, you’re not finding what you need in here tonight’ followed by always throwing something i don’t need out at me. I eventually find what i need, i swear to myself i’m cleaning this thing out on Monday, squeeze everything back in and lock the damn thing again. The bed is changed, the boy has clean pyjamas a spoon of Calpol and a glass of water. Back to bed.
Round 2 of the puking commenced 30 minutes later, this time, he avoided the bed. Great lad, but got to the hallway and somehow managed to get the entire length of it and reach the bathroom walls and door. OH MY GOD. My upstairs hallway is carpeted, this is gross! But, at least the bed didn’t get it this time. The hubbie is cleaning the puke up and i need to get the boy clean pyjamas again. I manage to step in the puke, Ew! i’m only in my socks. I peel them off and chuck them into the wash basket. yuk!
I blame myself, early this morning i bragged that i had finally got my laundry basket empty. I asked for it. My wash basket is never empty. It certainly isn’t now.
2 hours later we attempt going to bed ourselves. I mutter to the hubbie not goodnight, but good luck, not knowing how the rest of the night would play out. I was right. 3:30am i awake to the 4 year old standing beside my bed dripping in puke like something out of a horror movie. There’s puke all over the hallway again. I get him cleaned up, the hall cleaned up. Freezing my backside off, i climb back into bed. Hoping that’s the end. It wasn’t!
4:20am, the 8 year old arrives into the room, the 4 year old has destroyed the bed AGAIN! I do the bed hubbie gets the child clean.His precious teddy bears have been hit this time. Now, there’s going to be trouble, he’s not going to sleep without them, i sneak them into the pile of dirty washing. He protests until he sees the chunks of puke falling off them. I substitute them with a Mickey Mouse who won’t shut up every time the child moves. I don’t care, he will do, i’m tired. Then comes the sound of dry heaving from the little ones cot. I’m running in between changing the bed and checking the baby isn’t being sick, he’s not, it was a cough. In the process of running between the 2 i manage to step on something, something i thought was a piece of Lego. It turned out to be a blasted Minion from a Kinder egg. I think my foot is broke. I hobble back to bed cursing to myself that they’re not going outside the door tomorrow until that damn pig-sty of a room is clean.
The littlest one woke at 7am, a bit warm but no temp. The rest are asleep upstairs, until the blasted dog starts barking and wakes them all up. I contemplate throttling the dog, decide against it and instead banish him to the garden. Hubbie goes off to work and i have to hide the fact that i’m jealous that he gets to escape.
8am arrives, the 4 year old has great timing, decides to projectile vomit across the living room while i am in the middle of changing the little ones nappy. I manage to smear poo all over my dressing gown (yes, i’m still in my pyjamas). The oldest one dives into the corner dry heaving with the stench of puke that has now filled the living room. 4 year old still standing in living room, dripping once again in puke. They 8 year old, brings him to the bathroom, Yes i know i would be lost without him, only he reaches the hall and sprays EVERYWHERE. Walls, doors the whole shebang.
I’m cleaning him up, cleaning the carnage in the living room and hall, the 4 year old is crying, the littlest one is crying, I’m nearly crying. I’m repeating in my head over and over again ‘i can’t do this anymore’.
Calmness was eventually restored. The 4 year old was content watching Paw Patrol on Netflix, the older kids were tidying their bedrooms after last nights minion incident and the littlest one was having a nap in his buggy. I needed to get on top of my now overflowing laundry basket. The sight of it almost made me cry, this basket that i was so proud to see the bottom of yesterday was now full to capacity again. The only consolation was that the weather was glorious and the fact that i don’t own a tumble dryer, at least i could hang them out to dry.
The bedding still have big chunks of puke on them that i needed to get off before putting them in the washing machine so i decided i’d try to scrape it down the drain. It was a great idea until the dog started trying to eat the chunks of puke that were falling into the drain. I think i’m going to be sick. Manage to shoo him away resisting the urge to put my foot up his backside, stupid dog! At this stage i contemplate just throwing the whole lot into the bin, decide not to as i’m running low on bedding at this point. I must soldier on. Oh, how glorious is motherhood?
The fighting coming from the 3 older kids is deafening, ‘Can they do anything without fighting’? I threaten to ground them forever, to which they take absolute no notice of because if i do ground them, they know i’m the one who will suffer the most.
Rooms cleaned, off out they went for enough time for me to have a quiet cuppa in between doing loads of washing, and sat with one eye on the littlest one playing with clothes pegs and a basin (in all the toys that are in the house these are what keeps him happy) on the floor and the other eye on the 4 year olds treasured teddy bears which are now hanging on the line, if they come off the line they will go straight into the mouth of the damn dog waiting below and i will have to emigrate.
The hubbie arrives home from work, i’ve never been so glad to hear him coming through the door! He’s unusually chipper…I secretly hate him right now! Today has made me very bitter! The 4 year old is asleep on the couch, for which i will no doubt pay the price for later. The littlest one still playing with clothes pegs on the floor and searching for bits to choke on, and is now sporting a snotty nose and watery eyes. He is whinging and whining in between clapping his handies every few minutes which in turn i have to mimic…..EVERY TIME!
After the 5th load of washing and me sporting the mother of all headaches, mainly from listening to the blasted washing machine all day non stop all the puking stopped. They were all tucked up in bed, i finally got to sit down with the best glass of wine and pizza i have ever had. Slimming world plan is going out the window tonight, i’ve earned these today. I sit indulging myself, the kitchen is a tip…I don’t care. Tomorrow is another day and unless the cleaning fairy descends on the house over night it will still be there in the morning. At least i’ve got through the mountain of washing and dare i say it ‘the wash basket is empty again’!