(Based
on true events)
Let’s face it, it doesn’t matter how
Pinterest worthy your parenting skills or homelife are, when the entire family
is struck down by a vomiting bug your house turns into the D-Day landing scene
from Saving Private Ryan but instead of detached limbs there’s vomit, instead
of weaponry there’s towels, and instead of sea water there’s diarrhoea. As if a
family wide vomiting spree wasn’t horrific enough, you’re mummy, you’re in
charge of this literal shit show. Dear.
God.
So
how does one nurse delicate constitutions when one is incredibly fragile one’s
fucking self? Particularly when you’re all so contagious you can’t summon help?
(Many thanks for all the offer though!) Here’s what I learned ‘in the field’
this week (whilst begging for it all to end – ‘it’ being either the bug or
life, whichever ended first, really, I was flexible).
Domestic Bliss!
Which brings us
to point one! Flexibility! And by flexibility I mean the art of letting go.
Lord bless your little cotton socks if you and your loved ones are exploding
out both ends like a stepped on ketchup packet and you still find a molecule of
energy to care about the state of your house.
Firstly the
laundry, embrace it, be at one with it, it’s not so much a household task as a
lifestyle for the next two weeks. Don’t sweat over it (sweating will only add
to the laundry pile). Break it down into grades of how much of a biohazard it
is and work from there. By the way, your concept of ‘biohazardous’ will also
deteriorate over the next week, going from ‘there’s vomit on this’ to ‘but it’s
only a little bit of vomit.’ Bite the
bullet and just say goodbye immediately to items that have been contaminated
that won’t survive the hell fire level of hot wash (RIP pretty black jumper).
A painful sub
point of the laundry topic is night time laundry (of which there will be much.
So much. SO. MUCH.). You have these survival skills already, you just haven’t
had to use them for a while, but you’ve got this. Reminisce to the newborn days
of defeated nocturnal heartbreak and throwing a towel over that 4am spit up
tsunami (after wiping off most of it… probably) and just sleeping on it. It’s
totally fine. No one will know. To those of you who just wrinkled your nose in
disgust: You’re impressing no one with your lies.
If like most of
the human population the idea of coming face to face with someone else’s puddle
of vomit/other bodily fluid makes you want to produce your own puddle, here are
some tips I’ve gathered courtesy of some weird tv! Good old Vaporub swiped
under the nose covers the smell of almost everything. However, in an emergency
(and with small children, who seem to possess absolutely no sense of when or
where they’re going to heave, it’s always an emergency) smiling suppresses the
gag reflex. You can’t vomit while you’re smiling, usually. That’s not to say
you won’t really, really want to and that you won’t traumatise your children
with your Smiling Man impression but it might spare you having to clean up
double the mess after adding your own contribution. Emetiphobes, you have
nothing but my deepest sympathy.
Culinary Delights!
If, like me, you
face the horrific practicality of not all of your offspring being afflicted and
you have to prepare meals while your insides are attempting to escape your
outsides, your oven is your best friend. As is food you can throw into the oven
and have minimum contact with. Consider your menu for the week tongue-in-cheek
controversial with those scandalous fish fingers and a frozen pizza or two
rather than flirt with the harsh fact that you’re giving up on life. Promise
yourself next week it’ll all be home made from scratch, don’t dwell too much on
what will be made from scratch lest
your stomach lurch, but lying to yourself is an important survival tactic.
Flat 7Up. If
you’re Irish I need say no more. However, if you’re not, let me explain. We’re
not sure when or how but did you know flat 7Up (not Sprite, what are you?
Foreign?!) can cure everything? Stomach bugs, hangovers, the flu, leprosy, your
failing marriage. Everything. The Irish obsession with flat 7Up is so ingrained
in us that we would be far more willing to accept that St. Patrick’s biggest
contribution to the Emerald Isle was the introduction of flat 7Up (not that the
no snakes thing isn’t terribly convenient). If you have small children, you’ll know
they dehydrate so quickly. Sometimes it’s incredibly hard to tell whether
dehydration is exacerbating an upset stomach or has become the real health
concern until things get very dramatic. My kids don’t get soft drinks (my one
smug mother comment, I promise) but when they’re sick sensible eating just
isn’t a concern. Whatever they want and can keep down, especially if it staves
off dehydration, I’m all for. It’s not like they’re in any position to gorge
themselves on the junk I offer in desperation. Flat carbonated drinks are a
great way to coax them to stay hydrated. Flat sports drinks are also good,
allegedly replenishing electrolites, salts and such. However, I was raised on
flat 7Up for the diseased and on flat 7Up for the diseased I will stay lest I
betray my heritage.
Your Sanity! (HA!)
There is
absolutely no way to feel good about yourself while you’re sick. There just
isn’t. If you’re looking after little ones who are also sick, you won’t have
the time or luxury to sit around and wallow and, y’know, get better. You will
probably continue to feel sick long after everyone else is coming out of it.
Feel free to cry. Do it a lot, in fact. If you have the body fluid to spare
between vomiting. But don’t forget to adopt a good healthy black humour about
it too, relish your new waist line! Think of all the comical horror stories
you’ll have to share in six months’ time (approximately the amount of time
it’ll take to look back and laugh)! And don’t forget it’s temporary. And you’re
a bad ass. You got this.
Written by Mary @maryeyeballs
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