Mumma is contemplating her second double gin of the evening already after an eventful day of bodily fluids. Not her own you understand, but those of her darling 7 month old son, who, since Friday has been consistently pooing through the eye of a needle. The latest ordeal started at 12am this morning with 3 full nappies within 10 minutes – literally like molten lava with only a wet wipe between the offending matter & Mumma’s hand. But the straw that broke Mumma’s back may possibly have been when, just after she’d prepared a delicious dinner of buttery carrots & mash, her precious boy, after lulling her into a false sense of security, decided to vom it back at her in an exorcist type fashion – both through his nose & mouth all whilst screaming uncontrollably. Thankfully it mainly landed on the laminated kitchen floor. After waiting for it all to pass from a safe distance away, then quickly checking that her new Christmas slippers were unscathed & left with no other option, Mumma extracted her (dearly longed for) baby boy from his high chair in what can only be described as an ‘80s caretaker fashion’ (aka under one arm) promptly taking him upstairs into the bathroom, then stripping him down & putting him straight in the bath: no wet wipe in the world was man enough for this job. Sadly Mumma struggles to be overly maternal when it comes to sickness.Then Daddy came home & announced that he too now feels like he’s got a dodgy belly & isn’t eating his dinner that was lovingly prepared after the pukenami & subsequent mass cleanup. Mumma is now feeling slightly delirious & slightly tipsy; having previously losing her appetite due to dealing with the sheer volume of said poop & then sick for the last 18 hours, all while rocking to the seemingly never-ending drone of the recently fixed, over-worked washing machine. The boy on the other hand sleeps on, now in his cot, & completely unaware that his Mumma is teetering on the edge of therapy.
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