I am getting just a litte Fed Up with Nursing.
Middle Son has Bad Cold Virus Thing With No Name. Horrid. Poor little Mite.
At the beginning of the week I would tiptoe up to his bedroom, pull his bedding snugly round his shoulders, ask tenderly if he wanted a drink of Hot Lemon and Honey, and then tiptoe gently down again. Once downstairs I would brew a Tisane of Crushed leaves of Wong Logat, while knocking up a Stunning Evening Meal ready for later when Husband would come home quite Grumpy from work.
I ironed Snowy White Napiery. I washed the Front Door Step. (I really did! In an Apron!) I polished tables with Bees Wax. Arranged flowers on the shining wood.
Played a little Chopin Mazurka to cheer him up. Stroked his hair.
I had Vitamins and Manuka Honey lined up ready to pop into Son's mouth. Fresh water taken up on the hour. Chilled Orange Juice. Tiny little Nourishing Snacks.
Every day. For a week.
Bollocks to all that now, I can Tell You.
DO YOU WANT ANOTHER BLOODY DRINK? I yell up the stairs.
BECAUSE I AM NOT COMING UP THERE FOR BLOODY NOTHING!'
Son yells down for more water.
Son wants the telly turned a little down.
Son wants the telly turned a little up.
Son wants the telly turned off.
Son wants the telly turned on.
Son wants Cornflakes.
Son can't finish Cornflakes but would like some Cheerios.
Son would like a little lunch but not bread.
Son would like a cup of tea but no sugar.
Son limps into kitchen.
(May I just say that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HIS LEGS.)
'I think I am feeling a Little Better,' he announces.
'Might do me good to have some Freshly Squeezed Orange Juice with my Bacon and Eggs.'
Finally, tomorrow, I can dispatch Son back to school.
Now that he is better.
For ten minutes this morning I felt quite Euphoric.
No more illness! No more Stuck Indoors! I will be free!
Phone call. Husband.
Not Feeling Very Well. He says.
Think I'd better come home.
Could you get me some Paracetamol.
And would quite like some Hot Lemon with a little Honey.
Right. Super. Marvellous.
So it's on with the Apron again.
Buy more Manuka honey.
Get the Paracetamol.
Plump up the Pillows.
Freedom will have to wait.
I have a Tisane to brew.
Don't really swear at my children. Only on Very Rare Occasions.
This week might have been one of them.