Sunday 23 January 2011: Back to the drawing board...
331/365: Felix, drawing a picture of a 'thing' - it turned out to be multi-coloured 'thing'... but it's still resolutely a 'thing'. And he's drawing it in his pj's because he hasn't got up today since he's still not very well.
So... the scores on the doors for today...
1 vomiting 7 year old
1 vomiting 41 year old
1 'feeling about to vomit' 73 year old
1 'flopping about having spent the previous day vomiting and managing some spectacular attempts today' 4 year old
1 36 year old woman, rushing around emptying buckets, doing laundry, washing hands, wiping mouths, washing hands, emptying buckets, doing laundry, washing hands, wiping, washing, emptying... ad infinitum...
The bug has whooshed its way through Felix, Maddy, Nick and my mother is on the verge of it and is currently in bed feeling ill (so I have the daughterly guilts on top of everything else for exposing her to my family's bugs!).
Which isn't how I intended today to be at all. It was going to be all 'family outings and fun stuff'. And has morphed into an expanded version of yesterday's vom-fest. Tomorrow, Felix is 5. He's had a rotten weekend. All my plans have come to nowt and just as I put the roast dinner in to cook... Nick and my Mum (the only meat-eaters) simultaneously came down with the stomach bug, so the chicken is roasting for no-one. Well, the cat's interested... but no-one else. *sigh*
Actually, Felix's birthday seems to be marked with 'interest' most years. The day before he was born, I distinctly remember announcing 'he can't come yet, I've got far too many things to do' - and then he arrived. The year he was 1 we'd told my family we were emigrating about a week or so before... so no-one was speaking to me. The year he was 2, we'd emigrated and it was going horribly wrong and no-one was speaking to me again. The year he was 3, we'd returned to the UK and just about no-one anywhere was speaking to me. The year he was 4, y'know... I can't remember! It was fairly uneventful though we'd only just moved house and I did kill myself trying to get it 'right' for him and in the background of my life, my dad was ill and getting worse. And this year. Well. This year has been an unmitigated crap out again.
Maybe I should just go back to the drawing board on this whole birthday thing and tell Felix I don't remember when he was born and avoid the certainty of nightmare next year?
Yeah. That could really work for me. *rubs scheming hands together*
PS If you put your ear to your computer, you can hear me screaming
PPS Hold on... another bucket needs emptying... off I go again...