So anyway.... back at the ranch

The damned fireman song is still stuck in my head - on a very annoying loop of NEENAWS. I don't even know all the words. I just make them up and the boy looks at me with a strange - and mildly disappointed - look as if I really should know better.
I went home from work last night after vay vay stressful day (will tell you all about it when I'm done with Therapy and written my bestselling book 'The Journal Years - How to Stay Sane in the Workplace').
You know that old sign you see in dodgy taxi offices and greasy spoon cafes which states "You Don't Have to Be Crazy To Work Here, But It Helps..." - well that's really, really true here.
Anyway - sorry have done Billy Connolly style tangent thang there - I went home from work yesterday to the smell (read that as stench) of sick. The boy clambered on my knee and told me he had a wee bug in his tummy which had climbed up and out of his mouth and he wanted only his "mama" to watch him. The boy does this you see, reverts to baby status when he is ill. He wants only his "mama" and he puts on a pathetic little voice with occasional whimpering and barking. (He refers to himself as the puppy, or pupster - should I be worried?).
I was delighted when he eventually went to bed but was less delighted when two hours last he puked all over his bed - and I mean ALL OVER his bed.
Now, I'm not good with puke. I don't handle it well, but since becoming a mum I've developed a little more of a tolerance. Generally I can manage to clean up the vilest smelling vomit without retching my guts out - last night?...Not so much.
I had to beg the husband to deal with situation while I tended to the child. It was him who had to (don't read on if you are of a sensitive disposition) shake the lumps off the bedsheets and sort the washing machine out. I was grateful beyond words to him - although he has quite rightly developed the hump over it. I may have to ply him with beer and expensive cuts of meat.
So today the pupster said he was okay to go to school, so I took him. There have been no reports of mass vomitings since. Although I do still feel quite queasy at the thought.

So everyone join in... NEENAW, NEENAW, NEENAW, down the pole we go...