It was a day of two halves…
First, my morning routine was interrupted by the abrupt eruption of my youngest sprog’s stomach contents in my very clean, very special en-suite bathroom. In those same rather fractious moments, my dog walked in – limping. I think my mind had already resigned itself to the type of day it was going to be.
Hoping and praying that said sprog was going through the usual motions of obligatory ablutions, I waited in anticipation, hoping that his complaints from the previous evening wouldn’t bear fruit and multiply into the sickness bug that has been tormenting the year 6 class since our return from the half term break. When he emerged from the room I prefer to call my spa oasis with its soaker tub and stand alone shower cubicle, tinted blue glass sink and high ceilings dressed in white, I watched his hollowed face for signs of life. A blank stare looked back at me. The day was set in stone – I would miss my children at school, the Book fair, and spend the day cleaning sick!
Choosing this opportune time to add to my load, little Millie screeched in pain as she attempted to jump up for her usual morning hugs and kisses. For a moment, I was torn: attend to the sprog or see what was wrong with the dog. Thank goodness the sprog made the choice easy for me. His pale face took on a pink hue as he ran to save the love of his life: Millie! Forgetting his tangled stomach and raging headache that pursued his every breathing moment, he ran to assisted his four-legged best friend. Poor Millie had twisted her ankle and now bore the fruit of her labour.
We moved our pity party downstairs where I could administer necessary meds to both my sickly babies and prepare a breakfast fit for upset tummies and twisted ankles.
That was my morning.
The afternoon was far more sedate. The temperamental storms that had been stirring all day saw my sickly babies dozing contentedly, between bathroom runs, on the sofa in the family room. The background noise of Full House set the ambient tone as rain forced its way down the rusty gutters, pitter-pattering on the glass roof as the two slept peacefully. It gave me a chance to realise how little studying I had done for my exam on Monday and how little hope I had in passing.
While listening to those impatient raindrops, I poured over my books, hoping my brain would retain some of the information in its unused grey crevices.
Now, as I sit in front of the fire typing this narrative, I wonder what the day would have held if it hadn’t started with a:”Mom, I don’t feel well!”
Happy Friday everyone!