We’ve been really lucky with Lily when it comes to her feeling under the weather. She just doesn’t seem to get unwell and when she does, it hardly shows. She got her first cold at 8 weeks old and she’s probably had one or two smaller colds since that haven’t made her flinch. A couple of months after her first birthday she got her first sickness bug, bless her it was awful, she was so poorly and it shook me because I’d never seen her like that before, it hit her hard. She had a touch of it again before Christmas whereas I had the full blown puking, diarrhoea, fever and ‘I’m too sick to move’ thing going on (you know it’s been horrid when you get better and fully appreciate the feeling of being well don’t you?) and that’s it, not much really for a newbie to the world who’s still developing a decent immune system.
Then she turned two and a couple of weeks later we had the works!
It started with her sitting up in bed one night and calling to us over the monitor. I saw her bottle was on its side and went upstairs to give her a cuddle and put it on her bedside table to avoid spillages. ‘It’s everywhere’ she exclaimed. ‘Don’t worry baby…’ I replied ‘It’s only a bit of milk…woah, what is that?’ She was right, it really was everywhere. Her pillows, her bedsheets, her clothes and her hair were all covered in a strawberry-scented reddish mixture and I quickly realised that she’d been sick. I ran a bath and popped her in whilst Mike came upstairs to dish out some well-deserved sympathy and change her bed. In the bath she was right as rain again (oh how she does love a bath) but when she came out she was wretching as we caught little watery spurts in a towel. It was horrible to watch and I hugged her tightly as she sat in my crossed legs wrapped up in a towel and a good few blankets on top of that still managing to shiver. We decided to call it a night early to keep an eye on her and, as usual, she cosied up between us in our double bed. Every couple of hours she’d wake up to be sick and I’ll pull her up to sitting position to catch the splutters, stroke her hair and offer water if needed. She’d also ended up with her first ever temperature so I knew it meant business this time around.
It went on for a couple of days and she was quickly over the sickness. Hurrah! She was almost back to herself but then disaster struck again in the form of ‘the other end’. I was being shaken awake at some ungodly hour to excited whispers that there were ‘clouds’ on the bedsheets (usually this happens when she spills her water bottle and it makes darker cloud shapes on the linens). However, these clouds smelt suspiciously stinky and upon further examination I could see that Lily’s favourite space-themed pyjamas pants were sodden down to the knees. I pulled them down to find her legs plastered in cream-coloured poop before lifting up her vest to find her tummy covered in what looked like off porridge (yep, I’m going there!) Just like the sick, it was everywhere — the ultimate poonami experience, it was hilariously awful. Being the doll that I am, I decided to treat my Instagram followers to a picture on my stories captioned ‘Happy Shaturday’ with a bunch of the poop emojis, I’m simply delightful aren’t I? There might have been a few raised eyebrows about it being breakfast-time but you can’t please everyone can you?
I stupidly decided it was a one-off blip and we popped in to town to buy Mike’s birthday presents as it was the last chance we had before his holiday started. It’s not a long bus ride in to Warrington, about 20 minutes or so, but around half-way I was hit by a godawful stench. I looked at her and I just knew. She’d shit herself again. I hadn’t even brought a spare change of clothes, stupid woman. She clearly wasn’t bothered to be sat in a pile of her own crap (hey, what’s new eh?) but I watched as the other passengers began to wrinkle their noses and look around suspiciously at each other. To avoid any misplaced judgment, Lily decided to let out some very audible wind so there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who the culprit was. The safety of the bus station baby changing room couldn’t come quick enough!
It wasn’t as bad as I’d first envisioned and I managed to get away with taking her shorts off and shoving on a spare pair of Slugs & Snails I had crumpled up in some forgotten corner of my rucksack. Thank god those things work as leggings as well. I’d also packed the Water Wipes* so the clean-up operation was super easy and I felt better knowing that they’d be soothing to her poorly botty rather than possibly causing further irritation. They’re completely chemical free, just water and a drop of grapefruit seed extract so a complete contrast to the long list of unpronounceable ingredients you usually see on the back of baby wipe packets. They’re also a lot wetter which is fabulous for getting everything up quickly and allows you to use fewer wipes (yay, less waste) but they can sometimes be a little cold so I warm them up in my hands beforehand if I need to (not on this occasion though as the cooling was probably quite pleasant for her).
The rest of the day continued in much the same manner but she seemed happy enough. I, however, collapsed on the sofa as soon as we got in. I was cold, I was burning up, I ached everywhere, my appetite completely disappeared and I spent the next 3 days running to and from the toilet every 15 minutes and eating dry crackers, if anything. It only stopped on the Tuesday because I suddenly remembered we had anti-poorly-tummy tablets in the cupboard and I took too many in a desperate bid to make it stop (oh please god make it stop) as we were going to see Bat Out of Hell that night and I’d be damned if I missed most of show by admiring the tiles in the toilet cubicles.
Luckily, we’re all free of the bug now and I slowly back away from anybody who looks a bit on the dodgy side with my fingers in the sign of a cross. I’m not taking any chances right now!
* PR samples