I almost forgot how much fun I had on Saturday night – it was a real humdinger but for some reason I seem to have blocked it out of my mind this week.
Coping mechanism no doubt.
Georgia (funny how she is featuring so much lately) comes into our room around 1am. We are fast asleep and goes: “I need the toilet “ and then pukes on the floor.
She does however put her hand in front of her mouth so it spatters out between her fingers as she is heading towards our bathroom.
Again why she does not just go to the bathroom across from her room forever remains a mystery in our household. She always asks for permission – which is endearing – however is less endearing at 3am as she leans over and whispers/shouts: “I need the toilet, can I go to your bathroom?”
So back to Saturday’s revelry. Of course we scream – in unison –: “Bathroom, go the the bathroom!”
She goes, she throws up some more – some in the toilet, some not.
Kennith at this point has woken up, flicked on our overhead light and is standing in the corner like a scared three year old – the fact that he is naked is not doing him any favours.
Kennith cannot abide puke in any shape of form – he can swim in poo if he has to, but show him a speck of puke and he starts to blubber like the village idiot.
I look at him slightly annoyed while I clean puke off myself, off child, off toilet seat, off toilet wall, off toilet floor, off passage floor, off passage wall, off child’s bedroom floor, off child’s bedroom rug, out of child’s hair and a few splatters off bedroom door.
Child is all dressed anew, smelling mildly fresh. I pack her off to bed, with a kiss on her forehead.
I get in to bed. Throw the duvet with just a bit too much force over my bulk to show my irritation that Kennith, well, did nothing. I close my eyes, make a little sighing sound and wait for slumber to appear.
Just before slumber appears, Georgia arrives for scene two (re-enacted, rather than any new features) … and pretty much goes through the same script, scene for scene.
Kennith is again in the corner – I have retained my part where I am cleaning up puke off various surfaces of the house.
It is all disturbing familiar. All I am missing is the Sonny and Cher song playing in the background (reference kicks back to Ground Hog Day)
I am now a bit less amused than I was the first time, and am tiring of the role I have been cast in.
When aiming Georgia towards her bed this time – I decide to put a puke bucket next to her bed – well it is actually the mop bucket, but today it gets to be the puke bucket.
Georgia decides that scene three needs a go – this time before I had got myself into bed.
I must confess to losing out of the “Mom of the Year” Award at about this point. I knew I was totally of of the competition when I heard myself screaming “for fuck sake, could you just puke INSIDE the toilet this time!!”
Any the who – once again I was scooping puke up – and redressing and … well you know how it goes as I have already covered this section earlier.
But I learn from experience, so I took Georgia, green bucket, puke towel and got into my bed with her.
Initially I miscalculated and thought the puking was all over and she can just sleep with us. I put the puke bucket and the puke towel next to the bed within easy reach.
It is amazing the reflexes you possess – like crazy cat reflexes when a child in YOUR bed starts making that whoooggghhhh-whoooggghhhh sound.
Once she puked and we got that out of the way, I figured there was two ways to go about this for the balance of the evening.
I could either be up every 6 – 8 minutes with her retching over the toilet and me holding back her pigtails, or …. I could put the bucket in bed with us, with the puke towel and prop her up against me and sort of semi-sleep.
I went with that option as that way I could at least hope to get snippets of sleep. When I thought I had it all taped, she decided to step the stakes up a bit.
She opted to throw in a bit of diarrhea for good measure. There is a lot I can do in a bed armed with a puke bucket and towel, but catching diarrhea is not one of them.
Even with my incredibly proactive planning I was still up like a flipping yo-yo all night.
I must say it was challenging when she was poo’ing and puking at the same time.
The great thing about Georgia, is that even when she is sick, and retching into a bucket, she is still smiling at you and saying really sweet things. Bless her cotton socks for being such a sweet little carrot.
Sunday she was pretty drained and lay around watching television most of the day.
I have no problem comforting a sick child at night, but the issue is the next day, the other well children do not acknowledge that you have had about 30 minutes sleep and let you take it easy … unfortunately not.
On the upside when Isabelle had an afternoon nap, we all had an afternoon nap, which was pure bliss.
So that is how we spent our Saturday night. I can’t say that we are partying like it’s 1999 or anything over here.
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