Yesterday my darling offspring Marianna was ill, its really the first time she’s been properly ill in her life (aside from the harrowing circumstanced of her birth), and we’re talking the full works; nose running like an Olympic athlete, coughing like she’d smoked for fifty years and the occasional bit of vomiting thrown into the mix for good measure. She was so ill in fact that I even relented and allowed her to come into bed with me, which is something that I’m usually a bit of a hardarse about (Its not for all the clingyness issues that arise from it, its just I really detest sharing a bed with anyone). I finally got her to sleep in her own bed around 2:30 this morning after dosing her up an calpol, and to be honest it really has helped, because after that I managed to get a pretty decent (albeit short) nights sleep, which was most welcome after the pretty rough meeting I had to sit through.
But today has been a bit of a mixed bag, this morning I couldn’t get Marianna to detach herself from me, so it was all morning spent on the sofa watching the Tigger Movie, while Marianna and tinsel hedgehog lay on top of me, after which she seemed to improve to the point where she was running around with her dolls and generally being a nuisance, because I had to stop her from drawing on the rug more than once.
I’ll be honest, it was a little upsetting, seeing her so ill and beyond keeping her hydrated and trying to bring her temperature down, there was nothing I could do to make her better. I’m sure I’ll be feeling this every cold and flu season for the rest of my life now. It took me right back to when she was born, because she spent almost three weeks in intensive care and all I could do was stare at her through an incubator.
All I can do is thank any deity that’s listening for giving us junior paracetamol.