Man, talk about a delay. Sorry. And it’s not going to get better now. This is not a proper post.
First thing.. my god. A baby with a cold is no fun. No fun for her, of course, but eeesh. It started on Friday night with copious vomiting, continued with a sleep-shattered Saturday, then Sunday, and tonight looks no different. Maybe a bit different.
So I’m standing there on Sunday night, holding the baby, and she discovers that if you push your finger far enough into your mouth, you throw up. Not a lot, but enough to make me change out of my nice warm dressing gown and pyjama top. I find clothes, I make do. Laundry, all is laundry, so this is really making do.
So I’m standing there, later on Sunday night, holding the baby, and she’s been crying for an hour and a half, inconsolable, she can’t breathe, she can’t sleep, she’s been swallowing air and mucous for ages. And then it happens, the sick. Like a fire hydrant in my arms, a gush of vomit onto my chest. I don’t know what to do, but luckily she does. She pukes again, then once more, for good measure. Figuring my clothes can’t get worse, I hold her to me and whisper comforting things while – aside – bawling “Get a bucket!!” to her mother. A bucket is not needed, she’s done, spent. Shivering in the cold, we both end up without clothes and in need of a clean-up.
I find more clothes. God knows where they come from. God sent them, Buddha took pity on me, gave me a thin T-shirt on a cold night when I’m going to be out of bed every hour.
Oh, and she started nursery, properly started it, the next day. Shall we all give a cheery thumbs-up?