Poorly Sick

I am climbing the walls. It has been a three week relay race of sickness. One child gets off the sofa and the other takes to it. Apart from at weekends, when they seem absolutely fine. So we took them camping, packed in loads of adventures and then they crashed and burned on Tuesday. After three weeks of this pattern it now feels like a conspiracy to stop me from leaving the house in the week.

I realised today how utterly dysfunctional we are when one of us is out of action. Me and the healthy child, today it was Mr G, followed each other round the house aimlessly, like caged tigers. My OH calls G 'Am Dram', as in Amateur Dramatics'. Generally he has a lovely temperament, but when he blows a fuse it is always a performance. I lost track of how many Oscars he went for yesterday.

Miss L, who has finally succumbed to tonsillitis after a three week fight, lay on the sofa glued to the Disney Channel and wailed every time we crossed the path of the telly. The house is strewn with half eaten sandwiches, discarded beakers and toys that have failed to hold their attention for more than a millisecond. I have lost all interest in maintaining order, the washing has stacked up precariously above the dishwasher.

There is a real art to looking after poorly children. Hmmm. I don't think its a skill that comes naturally to me. I always try to think back to what my mum did in that situation. So I changed the sheets for L thinking back to how lovely it was to climb into clean sheets after a day of feeling grubby on the sofa. I tried to give her a spoonful of her antibiotics and she spat it out all over the clean pillowcase. Then she threw up over the duvet.

So now there are two sets of bedding to wash.

Happy Days. I am hoping the antibiotics kick in tomorrow.