What is it about being ill that makes you want your mummy? I have a sore throat, I ache all over, my brain feels like it has been wrapped in a duvet, and my nose has regressed to the constant snotty drip of a toddler.
All I want is a gentle Angel of Mercy to mop my brow and roll out sympathetic platitudes on the hour. Better still, every half an hour.
Now that I am the mummy I just have to get on with it. It’s rubbish.
There’s just no margin for lounging in bed calling for grapes and lemsips when you have a child breathing down your next wanting to be entertained. Actually, make that two children (I have my niece staying over this weekend).
I escaped to the bath just now while J held the fort (yes, I know it’s the afternoon. But I’m Ill!!). Soaked and sniffled. Read my book, and let the warm water soothe my aching bones. Stopped ‘getting on with it’ and indulged myself in thirty minutes of solitude. Mmmmmm.
I escaped to the bath just now while J held the fort (yes, I know it’s the afternoon. But I’m Ill!!). Soaked and sniffled. Read my book, and let the warm water soothe my aching bones. Stopped ‘getting on with it’ and indulged myself in thirty minutes of solitude. Mmmmmm.
No grapes, no sympathy but my small respite has revved up my flagging spirits.
Right. Lunch for us all, then off the see Santa on a train at the Cholsey and Wallingford Railway.
Being ill is for babies (and (step)daddies). We mummies are made of much stronger stuff!
Being ill is for babies (and (step)daddies). We mummies are made of much stronger stuff!
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2 comments:
Oh, poor you!
Look on the bright side -- at least you don't have house guests!
One of my work friends has just gone home because the nursery told her to pick up her boy because he as little red spots all over him.
Apparently he feels fine but everyone else is scared. When do we start playing up our illness?
Or is it just men who have "Man Flu" where women just have to get on with and don't have time for sympathy?
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