Norovirus

There are moments when you feel that life is just going to be downhill from now on in. Last night was one of those moments. Everyone is still taking ages to go to bed and I am still eating every meal with one hand. We managed to stagger up to bed once the baby had collapsed, but only to be awoken about 20 minutes later to the strains of big girl daughter throwing up around three times - twice in the bedroom and once in the bathroom. We stripped the bed, mopped and bleached everything and gave her some water. "I won't drink too much water or I will die," she said very seriously. I think I must once have commented on a news item on hyper hydration. I should keep my big mouth shut. We decided to let her sleep in our room [I was worried about her choking to death if she was sick again in the night. Normally I would cuddle her up, but I am currently sleeping with the baby pinned to my upper body]. She got in what is loosely referred to as the baby's cot [given that he never sleeps in it] and my partner covered it in plastic sheeting and placed a sick bucket in one corner. Ten seconds later the baby woke up and took ages to go to sleep. I could time how long it took by the fact that big girl daughter was throwing up roughly every 20 minutes. In the meantime, my partner, who had an important review to do in Kent the following morning which he could not miss, had discovered the fruits of bonkers daughter's earlier massage treatment. She had got hold of a maternity present I had been given - a sea salt scrub - and rubbed it all over her body on his side of the bed. Despite my very best efforts, he was encountering deposits of sea salt every time he shifted his body slightly and, believe me, he is about as sensitive as the princess and the pea about salt deposits in his bed.

Anyway, by around 4am the baby had decided to scream the place down. In the books it always tells you to leave the baby in a room and walk away for a few minutes when you are feeling stressed. This is nigh on impossible at 4am with a child vomiting in the corner and bonkers daughter in the next door room [if she wakes up at 4am that's it for the day]. I tried winding him, but I think he is actually stronger than me and kept pulling away. After about half an hour, he decided that he just wanted a chat and began cooing for around an hour or so. I think this was because the day before he had slept quite well during the daytime in his new swinger chair. In fact, he had slept through the neighbour's toddlers going in and out of the house about 50 times while bonkers daughter and their older sister designed a very intricate plan for an obstacle course between two opposing teams [the tigas and the egals. I was an egal and had a badge which said "Amanda is an egal"].

Anyhow, we managed to make it to the morning - bonkers daughter was up at 6am as usual and I spent the day anticipating everyone getting the vomit virus, particularly me. Breastfeeding with the vomit virus is not appealing. It can only get better, can't it?