I knew I was very lucky when my second baby came along (another son, Edward). Henry, my eldest, was in nursery 5 days a week (as he had started that when I went back to work). This gave me time during weekdays to bond with Edward, and it meant Henry was occupied in the day. The weekends were hectic, but Edward arrived in November and so this meant my husband was around more often than not (note: November is not part of cricket season!) at the weekends, meaning we could manage the kids together as a team.
I was cognisant of the fact that I had been fortunate in the beginning. In the back of my mind however, lingered the dread of the first time that Henry was unwell and thus banished from nursery, and I would be at home managing the two children solo with one of them unwell.
This day came in mid February, when Edward was just shy of 3 months old. I had been pottering round the house that morning, doing chores and preparing the evening meal. I received a phonecall and my heart sank when I saw it was nursery’s number. Here we go, I thought to myself. When I answered the phone I was dealt a much more evil blow than I was anticipating, because rather than the tame fever and lethargy I was expecting, I felt very hard done by to learn that the universe had chosen to smite our household with a most virulent stomach bug. I phoned my mother-in-law and emotionally broke the news. She went and fetched Henry and delivered him to my doorstep where I was armed with disinfectant, kitchen roll and several changes of clothes.
Henry arrived back home and wanted some milk. He devoured a bottle, and needless to say, seconds later, it came back up again in a projectile fashion. I concluded there was no choice but to bath him and so I quarantined him in the nursery whilst I went to run this. I had a bowl at the ready, prepared to catch any vomitus and prevent it from mixing with the bath water. I was simultaneously wondering how on earth I was going to keep Edward away from him, and quickly laughed at what a silly notion this had been to start with. Henry loves to hug his brother aggressively and crawl all over him and so any chance of isolation was ridiculous (no matter how much my husband disagreed with me- MEN!).
The remainder of the afternoon was spent mostly following Henry round with baby wipes and antibacterial spray (the latter for the floor, I hasten to add). We attempted to keep him hydrated and fed, but everything was vommed back almost as quickly as it went down. By the end of the day, most of the surface area of the floor had been cleaned and the sofa thoroughly scrubbed to get rid of all the sick. My husband had also had to undergo a complete outfit change after a particularly large vomcano coated him from head to toe and seeped through several layers of clothing all the way to his skin. Henry was in bed relatively early and amazingly slept quite well, but I knew he would have to stay at home for 48 hours until we could be sure he was no longer infectious.
The following day I was up early with both kids. Henry had stopped being sick (thank goodness) but was very clingy and wanted constant attention and cuddles. Of course, so did Edward. The way I survived this was by putting on as many Disney films as I owned and remaining in my pyjamas, without showering until precisely 16:15 when my husband arrived home and was able to relieve me. Prior to this my neighbour had come to the door and quickly noticed that I was “having a bad day” as he spied me through the narrowly opened door, child in arms, and with last night’s mascara smudged under my eyes and my hair unbrushed and crazy. He helpfully suggested that he would leave me to it and come back at a “more appropriate” time. Cooking anything decent for myself was pretty much out of the question and so I survived mostly on small squares of chocolate, which I periodically sneaked from a concealed cupboard so that the toddler did not notice. This involved a few white lies on my part when Henry asked “mummy, what are you eating?” and I replied “nothing sweetheart” through cheeks stuffed with sugary snacks. When the kids were finally in bed that evening I declared to my husband that I really needed a break and wished I could have just one day off from childcare in order to recover from the events of the last few days.
The following day Henry had recovered and was full of beans. Miraculously Edward escaped the bug altogether. I, on the other hand, awoke with cramping stomach pain and quickly hurried to the toilet, realising that I was going to be sick from both ends. I spent most of the day either on the toilet or in bed, feeling too sick to move. Luckily my husband and mother-in-law were in good health and took over the childcare after they found me shivering under the covers and looking pallid. I guess you have to be careful what you wish for. I may have got a day off from childcare, but it wasn’t exactly spent the way that I had envisioned it!
