Twitter chums will know that by last Friday I had just about had enough and the last thing I could be bothered to do was to cook a dinner. It had been a demanding few weeks. I decided that my plan of action would be to walk up to meet hubby, with the kids in the pushchair and splash out on a dinner out. Hooray! A Friday night treat, a rare and endangered thing of such awesome specialness that I cannot tell you how much it is appreciated. Sort of like winning the lottery in an attainable way. Twitter friends helped by pointing me in the direction of some money saving vouchers, wahey! A plan, now to convince the hubby, I had no worries on that front, for he is after all, a man that does as he is told.
The usual pre- pushchair outing checks; change bag full, spare clothes, food, dummies. Voucher. Umbrella. Coats on kids. Appropriate comforters. Handbag. Lights on, television off. Baby Fifi strapped into the Phil & Teds, Toddler Boy strapped into the Phil & Teds. Yep, that’s it, all set to go.
THEN. Bleeurgghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A cold sweat came over me. I considered briefly, just running away and leaving home. After all, I could still have my dinner. Yes, that’s right Toddler boy, projectile vomited, in a scene reminiscent of Exorcist, all over the brand new, hard fought over Phil & Teds Pushchair seat. I must say, though, at this moment the key benefit of having this type of pushchair was demonstrated. In a tandem buggy, both would have been covered head to foot in the foul juice of Beelzebub.
One of the dilemmas of having two children was then illustrated graphically to me. What do you do first? Save baby Fifi from the potentially drip, drip, drip of sick coming at her through the pushchair? Remove Toddler boy from the sick and clean him up? I opted for the later, hoping that the material had a little bit of sick resistance. Once Toddler boy was reasonably clean, I then removed Fifi to the safety of the play pen and set about cleaning the buggy, and cleaning and cleaning. I can’t tell you how hard this was for me, as I am not the household sick monitor. Mainly due to the fact that sick seems to induce a natural sick retching reflux in myself which is hard to suppress.
A few minutes later the hubby strolled into Armageddon. He looked as if he might stroll back out, but to his credit he stayed and helped. This weekend we have had a few more sick incidents, including one in the bed. The worse thing though, is that it has not struck me, Fifi or the Hubby. Yet. So, in a way, we are waiting for dinner, just not in the way I had hoped this weekend.