335 days….

My last day of holidays ….

and I spent it taking care of a sick little H.

I was really angry with him this morning – he’d emptied all of his clothes out of his wardrobe so he could “play” in the drawers and shelves.

He did his sad, contrite face which he always does when he’s in trouble.

A few minutes later I heard him spitting in the bathroom.

I thought he was trying to garner sympathy for his room-cleaning plight and pretending to be sick  (another trick he has picked up).

So I sent K in to tell him I didn’t care if he was sick – he still had a room to clean.

Then K came and told me about all the brown stuff in the sink that was “disgusting and smelled”.


I raced in there to find the poor kid heaving up his breakfast into the basin.

I cleaned him up and sat him outside on the verandah to cool off and calm down.

After a while of him sitting there, holding his bucket and leaning on me, he said he was thirsty and had a sore throat.

Given that i wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t gagged on a cough (his reflux is back with a vengeance lately). I gave him a zooper dooper ice block, figuring he’d get a bit of energy and liquid and not too quickly as it was ice.

After a few sucks, that came up too along with the rest of his breakfast.

Poor bugger.

…. poor me!

I don’t *do* the vomits – that’s your department baby.  I did every other health related thing from dentist visits to immunisations.  From wiping snotty noses, to doling out medicine.

I just don’t have the stomach for the vomits.  When I see it or smell it, I start heaving.

This is why it was YOUR job to deal with vomitty kids.

and you aren’t here.

So thankfully he seems to have come good by tonight.  He’s kept a dry cracker or two down and has been sipping water all day.

Now he’s feeling better and wants to do stuff.  I want to go to bed.

I miss you so much.

I love you even more.