It all started exactly one week ago, I went to get little Patrick out of his cot in the morning and his bedroom was a disaster zone. Sick everywhere!
All over his bedding, his hair, pyjamas, soft toys…! Poor thing was very confused about what it all was.
It was just over an hour before I was due to be at work, so first thing I had to do is let them know, which I hated doing. It’s only since having a child that I can appreciate how horrid it feels to know other people think you’re unreliable because you have a dependant, but I guess its just part of being a Mum. Luckily I work with decent people who are actually human and very understanding, but having to call them is still another stress to add to current stress.
I had two days straight of endless, stinking vomit and diarrohea to clean up. My washing machine didn’t know what had hit it!! By the third day the nasty little bug had been passed onto me and by the fourth day it had been passed onto my other half. 3 people in a 2 bedroom house with 1 small bathroom all desperately needing the loo is an equation that is far from ideal. What a nightmare. Just as myself and Dan started to get ill Patrick was feeling much better. Great timing.
Our only day off together as a family is a Sunday. Its usually full of fun, nice food and outdoor adventures. This Sunday we couldn’t venture too far away from the toilet (which has taken such a battering this week that we are now in need of a new loo seat!!). Poor Patrick was stuck at home with the both of us sweating and not wanting to move from our seats from fear of nausea.
You don’t realise how much an energy your toddler zaps out off you until you have no energy to give. I wasn’t playing with him like I normally would, the most I could muster was reading a book with him which unfortunately gets boring to him after 3.5 minutes! He wasn’t offered any new interesting foods to try or have any exciting meals because I couldn’t bare to cook and didnt want to be around food in general. I was desperately drinking Dioralyte, Camomile Tea and Powerade to keep me going and hopefully dissolve the everlasting headache and dehydration while my little pocket rocket bombed around the house getting stroppy because he was frustrated with his useless Mummy and Daddy.
I ended my illness with terrible feelings of guilt that I couldn’t perform as a Mummy. I think the whole situation was made worse by the fact both his Dad and I were unwell, so there was no one healthy enough to take charge. I know it’s totally not my fault but I couldnt help but beat myself up a little bit and couldn’t stop thinking of his disappointed little face when he approached me with his toys ready to play and he could see I wasnt my usual self. Poor little chap just couldn’t understand.
I know Im not the only parent that will have experienced this, it’s just this is the first time that I have been in charge of him and totally incapable of doing my job as a Mum. Just like I hated calling work to let them down, I hated knowing I had let him down.