Day Seven in the big flu house

And yes, Claire is still sick.
She gets bouts where she thinks "Erm, I feel an eetle bit better. I know what I'll do - I'll take an exhausted five year old to Tesco at 9pm (one hour past his bedtime) for the shop I couldn't do on Sunday as I was so sick..."
That sentence alone should be proof that Claire is still actually very sick and not at all better.
Tesco was not nice.
It was evil.
And Claire was that bargy mammy who shouts at her child and warns them they are in big, big trouble if they don't start behaving RIGHT NOW. (And Claire doesn't actually know if she shouted or whispered. Her ears are so congested that she can no longer judge the volume of anything...)
And then she nearly passed out.
And the child only grew more cranky.
And Claire ended up once again back in bed surrounded by at least 20jillion different medications (Fluoxetine for the madness, antihistamime for the hayfever, decongestant for the ear issue, antibiotic for the secondary sinus infection, ibufprofen for the pain, paracetamol also for the pain etc etc etc...) moaning once again.

All together now "oooooow. Oooooooh. aaaaaaaah".

Day five in the big flu house

And Claire is starting to hallucinate with boredom. She can't even spend time with her children for fear of smiting them. (Is that a word? Claire no longer knows which words are real and which she is just randomly making up).
Claire has been trying to sleep. But can't. She can't breathe through her nose and her throat is swollen like a balloon. Upshot is she has to sleep with her gob hanging open which leads to manky drool situation. And there is snoring. LOTS of snoring. Kind of even when she is awake.
And she's moaning a lot (too much according to the husband). And by moaning we mean actual moaning as in "ooooh, ooooww, aaaaah" as opposed to her bog standard "Did ye see the state of that" moaning.
She has not written.
Probably a good thing given the propensity to make up words at the moment.
She is grateful to not be at work. Her sub would be having a field day (Sorry Mary, but you would be ashamed of me. My it's and its have all gone to hell....)
She had forgotten just how crappy a flu feels.
And it's the summer. And her wee man wants to go swimming.

Oh it is officially flu. But not swine flu. Just ordinary flu. No one she knows is posh enough to have gone to Mexico.

pppffffffttttt

I may have exceeded my rationality quota

Okay - I'm sick. And spectacularly sick at that. I woke at 3 this morning with strong pains and wondered if babby was planning on making an early arrival.
An hour later I realised what I was mistaking for the miracle of childbirth was actually a particularly nasty stomach bug. I have been puking - and moaning - ever since.

Now you would think that after 8 months of hyperemesis I would be well used to the puking by now and in so many ways I am. I have mastered the art of the casual vomit - which is the ability to run to the loo mid sentence, puke, then come back and finish the sentence as if nothing untoward had happened.
I have mastered puking in work, getting cleaned up and making sure my hair remains vom free, before going back to my desk and working on a witty line or two for my column.
I have become - and this is something of an achievement for me - a master puker.

But today is different. Today I feel absolutely pants. And being sick makes me feel more sick and I've taken to weeping and wailing while my stomach turns itself inside out. I am not a good patient.

But I knew the hormones were getting to me when the boy was sick also (although he seems to have recovered now) and then the husband declared he was feeling a bit peaky.
Did I lavish on maternal and wifely love and concern? Did I mop their brows and offer to share my sick bucket with them? Did I soothe in the way a wife and mother should?

Well, with the boy I did a little. I shooed him downstairs with his duvet and have allowed him free run of the DVD players and enough ice lollies to shake a stick at (fluids, you see. Very important). I have cuddled him after he's been sick.

But hubby... and here is the shameful part... I guldered (and that is a Derry word for barged) "You can just feel sick!"
Not my finest hour by a long shot. But I just felt a little like "Can't I even puke on my own?" in a highly pregnant irrational stylee.
In fairness he now feels better and has been a perfect nursemaid.
Perhaps not the best valentine's weekend in history but I guess at times like these you realise what really is important in a relationship - and the ability to deal with a wife doing her very best beached whale impression, moaning and sweating, crying and puking and being a bit of bitch is right up there.
So while I wasn't intending to share my love this valentine's weekend on the tail end of a post about vomit - here's to you Mr. Allan - my knight in shining armour. And if you want to feel sick, please go ahead...

*splutter*

It's Friday so it's cold day.
*cough*
The Seven Dwarves of the Apocalypse are out in full - Sneezy, Wheezy, Queasy, Coughy, Achey, Whiney and Bleurgh.
*Sneeze*
Of course being a woman I'll batter on. I'm at work and in 15 minutes (yes, it's half day Friday!) I'll go and pick the boy up from Nursery and set about my Friday tasks and despite looking and feeling like I've had a fight with a ten tonne truck and lost I'll even go swimming with the boy this afternoon.
*cough, splutter*
Because that is what mammies do. We don't lie down under our illnesses. Yes, we might complain about them - blog about them even - but we get on with it. At least until the children go to bed and then we collapse in a sobbing heap and phone our own mammies for moral support.
*aaaaacchhoooooo*
I wonder what the medicinal properties of a good glass of Sauvignon Blanc are?

ouchee!

Remember those seven dwarves of the apocalypse?
They've been quite good and stayed away for a while, but I'm sick today and a little worn out.
I think my burning of the candle at both ends (and a wee bit in the middle too) has finally caught up with me and I'm officially out of fuel.
I have a horrible headache which is making me want to take my left eyeball out and scratch my brain, and I'm ever so slightly nauseous.

It's time for a rethink. I still have to work full time (need the dosh) and I still have to write my books (need the creative outlet) and I'm kind of stuck with the mammy thing... so what can give?
Well I've made an executive decision and booked a cleaner. I feel like a bit of a superwife let down to be honest, because you know my granny managed with ten wains and not a cleaner in site but I have reached the stage where I just can't cope with the average day any more.

Hopefully once the headache lifts and the cleaner starts, I'll start to feel brighter and more settled in myself and my writing word count will go through the rood again!
Til then, lots of chicken soup for me.

Ouchee

It kind of serves me right. There was I feeling all smug about the fact that my back has not gone into spasm since May when bam, spasmtastic.
I'm now propped up by a jillion pillows in bed with my trust laptop off my head on muscle relaxants. I feel all chaotic and twirly...
There is a really weird film on the TV- or that could just be my addled mind. I need a shower, butr I'm not sure if I could get in or out of it safely.

Drugs, drugs and more drugs....

Month 34- Teeny, tiny baby

DEAR JOSEPH,
You've been a little sick lately. Well I say a little, I mean a lot. It started with a bit of a cough of Sunday (your official 34 months birthday) and it's still ongoing.
You went to bed like a wee lamb on Sunday night but within two hours had clambered into bed beside me and lay there moaning, your temperature soaring.
You then threw up everywhere- the most prolific boke of your life if I'm honest- and I tried not to join in as I cleaned it up and got you sorted.
You slept fitfully, the fever making you delirious and my maternal senses were on red alert.
As it turns out it has only been a wee bug. You still have the cough and you turned down sausages today which makes me think you are not quite at yourself, but on Sunday night I really worried about you.
There is nothing worse than thoughts which jump through a parent's mind that something might be really wrong with your child. Yet at the same time I was so grateful because there are parents who every day face the reality of a seriously ill child. All I wanted to do in those hours was make it all better and protect you.

But apart from your bouts of lurgy, you have been in fine form this past month. I see your quirky sense of humour emerge more and more each day. You are obsessed with 'Charlie and Lola' and rockets - in fact every song you know has to have the word rocket in it.

You have taken to singing and talking in your sleep. I was treated to the full version of 'Santa Claus is Coming To Town' last night...
At those moments I want to be cross and tell you to be quiet but who can resist a singing toddler? Whatever the time on the clock.
I love you baby boy.
Mammy
x

Sexy- everything about me's so sex-eeeee

Behold that thing of beauty in this picture- for she looks much the same as I do today.

Yes, I have a cold and am a delightful shade of green. I've been sneezing and wheezing since sun up and even now that it's dark I'm still coughing and spluttering.

Let me paint you a picture. It is 8.40pm. I am wearing my oversized pink pyjama bottoms with a tunic style top which looks akin to maternity wear. I am not pregnant- I am just fat.
On my feet are two of the meanest looking fluffy pink slippers you will ever see and I am wearing an oversized lilac fleece dressing gown from my pregnancy days which has long lost its belt. My hair looks as though I have stuck my finger in an electrical outlet and I've taken off my make up so that my nose glows brightly- guiding lost Derry wans up the Foyle and safely home.
I have lathered on some green hemp cream from the Body Shop to ease the dry skin around my face and there are approximately 655 used tissues lying across my desk.

In addition, I keep making snorting, sneezing phlegmy noises.

Sexy? I'm a fecking babe!

The Seven Dwarves of the Apocalypse

In the spirit of trying to jazz up this blog, I should in fact post a picture of me and how truly awful I look today.

I have spent the last three days in bed with the flu (which initially I thought was a hangover thanks to a v. good night on the town with Erin) but which soon revealed itself to be the flu from hell.

I've been achey, sweaty, shivery, snotty, wheezy, queasy and weepy all weekend (How's that for an alternative seven dwarves? The Seven Dwarves of the Apocalypse...yep, that is what I shall call them)

However in the spirit of trying not to scare any readers I have off for ever more I will instead just post a picture of the non apocalyptic Sneezy.

Now, I don't like being sick. I'm not a good patient. I get even more whiney than usual and I demand sympathy from everyone- even those I've only parked next too or seen from across the street. I've also been unable to make it to work, which is unfortunate, as I know have guilt to add my list of symptoms.

The one good thing to come from this whole misadventure is that I dreamt the start of book number three (Provisionally titled 'Jumping in Puddles') the other night....but I have to make sure that doesn't put me off finishing book number 2.