So this week has been a testing week since entering the world of “mum with two boys”. Three and half months into the crazy whirlwind of having two children and we’ve been struck down with the pox.
Following the May bank holiday weekend where as a family we enjoyed warm weather, laughter with friends, a cheeky drink or two and a juicy burger from our first BBQ, we noticed a small red lump on our eldest just underneath his right nipple. Not thinking much of it we smugly went about our weekend juggling the two boys with great success, I even bragged about the 7 hours sleep my youngest gave me. We were soon to be punished for having such a joyful weekend when the small swelling became a blistered mound followed by a smattering of little spots popping up round and about….in fact they were everywhere.
Overnight our poor little boy became a human dot to dot, just in time for hubby to go back to work and leave me quarantined in the house. Now don’t get me wrong, being home with the boys is not a burden, in fact it can be lovely albeit a bit frantic and needing military planning. But when you are mentally prepared for the eldest to be in nursery and just spend your day snuggling your littlest, having to cancel nursery and think of what you will do to occupy them both sends you into a panic…snacks have not been prepped, nor have activities been planned. In fact you don’t know what to expect as you have vague recollections of suffering chicken pox when you were little and even then you just remember it being the end of the world.
Credit has to be given to my eldest as he didn’t experience many “woe is me, I’m so poorly” moments, in fact he has been fairly chipper about the whole experience….me on the other hand, jeez I needed a whole string quartet to play my “woe is me” backing music. It has been a HARD week. Days starting with the littlest having his 4.30-5am feed, as soon as he is placed back into bed and my head hits the pillow my eldest worms his way into our room, slithering along the floor in his sleeping bag bellowing “mammy, mammy” my.heart.drops.
Trying to get through each day has been an epic challenge as time has dragged at a snail like pace. Every task has been a monstrous mission, on one day I get little one dressed and turn to see eldest has pulled his nappy off and is running around with his ‘tiggle’ out….I managed to get a clean nappy on and wrangle him into an outfit that won’t be too itchy all the while trying not to irritate his spots whilst he wriggles and writhes about….as soon as I breathe a sigh of relief at getting both of them dressed I hear the unmistakable sound of poonami …it now needs superhuman speed before said poonami leaks and ruins the lovely clean outfit I have just put on 30 minutes previously. That’s just the start of the day, I haven’t even gotten myself dressed nor made my way downstairs where I will have to battle my way through feeding the animals (two dogs and a cat) as well as the children before the youngest erupts into a mammoth meltdown, all the while I attempt to eat a bowl of shreddies over little ones head as I try to juggle his ever growing weight on one propped knee. I just hope I’m not fishing too many shreddies out of his ear later on.
It’s safe to say by day 3 of being mainly confined to the house I am going slightly insane, I turn a blind eye to my eldest as he decides to unload four baskets of laundry that was neatly folded (don’t judge at least the laundry was clean and folded…just hadn’t quite made it upstairs). Nor do I blink when he’s climbing all over the sofa and attempting to slime over the arm onto the floor (I just throw a cushion underneath to break the fall).
I inevitably get to a moment where both boys need my attention in the form of snuggles. I have eldest on one knee as I bounce him gently into a sleepy state whilst I jiggle the youngest in the other arm….suddenly jiggling is not enough and he demands a boob but the eldest has just drifted off to sleep….crap!!! I manage to manoeuvre myself deep into the chair and get the youngest latched on, eldest has stirred in the process but I manage to rock him back to sleep, now I’m pinned to the chair underneath a mangle of limbs, the need to wee suddenly arises as does the desperation of thirst, no matter what happens though I cannot wake them up. Despite the fact I’m losing feeling in various parts of my body, I can just about grasp the remote and my phone. I savour the peace and take a moment to enjoy some undisturbed Facebook perusing and recharge as there is still 1.5 hours until dear husband returns home and relieves me from the madness.
It’s safe to say that although I have survived the week it has not been without the odd door being slammed, tantrums from both my toddler and myself and secret chocolate scoffing as I hide in the pantry to escape the screams and demands….now I’m just waiting for the youngest to get infected now. Joy!
The whimsical adventures of a not so Supermum 