Needing a Container Shipload of Tissues

The minxes are ill. Again.

There’s been a horrible virus doing the rounds. I’ve read online of my friends’ children falling ill with it, and watched as it seemed to rise up the country: Cambridge, Swindon, Nottingham, Yorkshire… it was inevitable it would end up here in Moray. Midi Minx fell ill with it first. She complained of an intermittent sore tummy (poss. swollen glands in her abdomen? Or 1001 other things, of course…) Then she had a sore throat and an awful-sounding cough. Then the high, high fever that’s barely kept in check with Calprofen and Calpol together.

No, I’m not a doctor, and yes I’ll take the kids to one if they’re not improving within 24 hours. But when they have identical symptoms to the other 12 kids off nursery and Primary 1, it’s probably safe to assume it’s ‘just’ a virus.

Are you the same as me? When you see your child get sick and you get that sinking feeling that it’s too late to save yourself? I’m old-fashioned and kiss my kids. A lot. So we all share our bugs a bit too well. So when Mini Minx started getting hot and cough-y, I thought: “INCOMING….!!!!”

That night Mini was delirious. I took her into my bed, beside a poorly Midi, and hoofed The Boss out into Midi’s bed so he could at least get some sleep before work. It was a real eye-opener listening to a 23 month old havering about cars and ‘drive-drive’, while her eyes were spinning around in her little head. Actually, talking of ‘eye-openers’, I wish I’d been a bit more alert and awake; then I might have dodged Mini cutting my eyelid with the edge of her book (yeah – papercut. Eyelid. Ouchie). I gave her and Midi a dose of baby Calprofen. It sent Midi to sleep but drove Mini into over-drive. So she spent the next 3 hours bouncing off the walls in my bedroom, chortling at the moon and poking her comatose sister in the nose.

The next morning, Maxi started coughing. OK, DVD and sofa day it is! Luckily I had the sense this time to anticipate what was coming and got ahead with the food shopping, mound of washing, hoovering and general boring household management. And checking once, twice, three times that we weren’t going to run out of coffee or tissues. That night The Boss faded fast…

So. Wednesday I had 3 babies and a husband all ill in bed / sofa. We were getting through calprofen and calpol by the bottle. That reminds me of probably my best parenting top tip: with multiple kids and multiple medicines, it’s *really* good to discipline yourself to write down what you’ve given, when, and to whom. You *will* forget. And whilst it’s difficult to overdose children on these medicines, the consequences of under-dosing them is dire…. (ok a bit tongue-in-cheek there, I admit). It’s especially important when you’re a bit shabby yourself…

So there I was on Thursday, merrily smug that I only had a bad cold, gleefully patting myself on the back for having a better immune system. Driving down to pick up Maxi from school (the only one recovered enough to go back), I settled back for 5 minutes to listen to the mellifluous tones of David Tennant (swoon) on a Radio 4 play. I felt all was pretty well with the world. The school bell went. I got out the car. And felt dizzy, cold and sick. I shivered over to get Maxi. I shook dramatically on the walk back. I worried that I was fit to even drive home. I had a very unpleasant night of sweats, chills, aches, sharp pains, crazy dreams, and all 3 minxes kicking me all over. And The Boss emptying his prodigious sweat glands into the bed beside me.

Today the kids are better. Not well, but better. The Boss has looked after me well, and I just feel plain old rotten now. (And typically, I got a welcome order for a knitted beanie hat today! But feel morally that I need to wait till my nose-tap stops dripping before I knit something to sell. Ewwwwww!)

I loved The Young Ones as a teenager, so I couldn’t possibly leave any other link than this:

3 thoughts on “Needing a Container Shipload of Tissues

  1. Pingback: Eh? Speak up! I Can’t Hear You! « (Reasons Why I'm a) Grumpy Old Trout

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