Phase one: Denial
Did you hear that cough? Something probably went down the wrong way. He has a runny nose… Hopefully it’s teething. He feels a bit warm, better turn the heating down. That could be teething too. That’s probably it. He’s fine. Yep. No need to worry. Oh, is that snot yellow?
Phase two: Super Mum
Ok I’ve got a poor baby on my hands. My little angel is sick, and I’m going to cure him with LOVE. Let’s get some oranges, and orange juice, and whatever else vitamin C lives in. Now, a bed on the couch, extra comfy pillows, lavender spray, dummies when awake. Lots and lots of cbeebies, stat. Would you like a blanket dear? Hot water bottle? Warm juice? Cold juice? A bath? Here, slather on this Vicks, and get this calpol in you. Olbas oil EVERYWHERE. I love you darling, you’re so brave, cuddles, cuddles, cuddles, more cuddles? Ok, more cuddles….
Phase three: The Trough
He’s still sick. He wants to be glued to me. But I have a baby too, and there is a distinctly fluorescent tone to the goo coming from her nose. Oh and the baby doesn’t sleep anywhere but on me at the best of times. Can I have her on my chest and him in my other arm? NO WAY NO WAY NO BABEE MUMMMMMEEEEEHHEEHEHEEEE. Ok I’ll put her down, come hear darling. WAAAHHH oh good, crying baby. Right, let appease him with something… toy story? No way! Chocolate? No way! Juice? No way! Pa? Would you like your pa? No way! (WTAF!?) Ok. Fine. Pick up baby, ok now they are both crying and I can’t take this anymore. Now we are all crying. Screw it. Jam them both in the car and just drive…
Phase four: The Breakthrough
Green car. What was that!?! Green car! Oh my god he’s back, he cares about cars! Hallelujah! Gingerly pass a bowl of cereal… Holy crap he ate some! Thank god! Feel forehead, woohoo! The fever has passed! No more straight jacketing him to force in calpol! And he’s napped! In his bed! *HAPPY DANCE*
Phase five: Recovery
Yep, he’s officially better. He’s bouncing off the walls (thanks, calpol). There are toys EVERYWHERE. The kitchen is a riot because he’s eaten 1/20th of fifteen requested meals in the last hour. He wants out. Mummy’s car! Mummy’s car! Tractors! Pa’s van! Tate’s house! Shop… For ice cream!! He appears in front of me with his Wellies on the wrong feet… Garden! This is great, yet why doesn’t it feel great? Is it because I don’t feel great? *blows nose* is that snot yellow?