December 19, 2012 by talkaboutyork

Following a weekend of completing final house build stuff, I take the cat to the vet in the pissing rain, cram a billion cardboard boxes into the boot of the car and take them to the tip, pack bags for night away, rush out to buy lunch and a Christmas gift for the decorator, make lunch, tidy up, last minute Christmas bits to sort, get in the car with the kids.

Drive for three hours in traffic. Take kids to frenetic Christmas event at a mall followed by dinner at a pizza restaurant. Attempt conversation with friend in between asking children to sit down.

Up all night with a poorly child. Less than 30 mins sleep in total. Finally up at 4.30 with a child who can’t breathe. Not in my home. Don’t know what to do re out of hours doctors. Lovely friend asleep and not waking if a bomb went off next to her. Googled local hospital. Threw on clothes, ran a toothbrush over my furry teeth. Following satnav bleary eyed I made my way to A&E, while child vomits into a Sainsburys bag next to me.

An hour in the waiting room. Tense.

Finally into a doc. A junior. Two nebulizers later, child is worse. Breathing more laboured. Steroids. Consultant is called in a bid to sort the problem. A third nebulizer. Steroids. Projectile vomiting from child. At last he is able to breathe normally. I feel lightheaded, hungry, sleep deprived, sick and tense.

Wait. Wait. Wait in A&E.

Moved up to children’s ward. Seen by about 10 different doctors, each of whom I have to run through the same info. Child still looks grim but can at least breathe now and no more vom. He sleeps. I wait. In a ward with 6 other screaming, vomiting, coughing, rash covered children. Immune levels depleted after two weeks of hideous cold of my own.

Finally discharged at 4pm mainly to free up a bed, but child seems ok.

Drive home like the sleep deprived zombie.

Bath children. Lovely friend serves me food and wine. Collapse into bed by 8pm. Woken every few hours by coughing child, me anticipating the worst.

Reasonably quiet morning before driving home for 3 hours in rain and traffic.

Get in. Feed cat and give him his medicine. Make dinner. Have a row with the kids who refuse to eat or sit at our new table. Catch up on email. Clean up. Break up fights between kids who both want to be on the PC.

10 minutes before bedtime, son says: ‘Can you play chess with me?’

Me: ‘No I’m tired.’

Son: ‘Why are you always tired? It’s not like you do anything that tiring.’


One thought on “Really?

  1. Potty Mummy says:

    Do what I do in that situation. Tell him that if that is the case, you will stop doing all those non-tiring things like the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, the tidying, the school run etc etc, and he can see what happens then… (in the nicest, most loving way, obviously!)

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