The past weekend I've been rather ill. Too ill to drink wine and too ill to row - usually the sure signs that something is actually wrong. I suspect I just had man flu, but it resulted in a stinking cough, a nose that could run marathons, an annoyingly persistent fever and reacquainting myself with everything I ate. All in all not much fun.
On Saturday the Boy was sublimely helpful in staying home from rowing to look after Eve while I pathetically lay down, threw up and generally made sad and self-pitying noises at him.
Sunday was a different matter because he had to race and, well, unless I was really ill (and bear in mind he still went rowing when I was stricken with pneumonia last year) he was heading off to spend half the day at the river. After lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself, during which he did offer to take Eve with him and see if someone could look after her while he raced, I decided it was mind over matter and of course I could look after my child, however awful I felt. Single mothers have to do it, people without live in nannies manage. Somewhat confused, I had after all been throwing up an hour earlier, the Boy took the window of opportunity and fled.
It started rather well. I needed to bring my fever down and what better than lolling around the pool for an hour. We had fun, I only had to drag Eve out of the pool to the loo so I could dry retch once, and thankfully we were the only people there so my hacking cough wasn't within earshot of anyone who might mutter something about avian flu at me. Then we came home, I switched on Cbeebies for a quick 10 minute fix of the Fimbles while I rinsed the swim stuff. I sat on the sofa for no more than a split second, but the next thing I know it's an hour later and we're watching Mr Maker.
Horrified at having let Eve watch an hour of TV, I got out the farm and vets set and we started playing with the toy animals. Except after an hour I felt rather wiped out again, so became ever more horizontal on the play mat. The next thing I know is that I woke up with two small pigs and a cow on my chest. By this time Eve had clearly got used to me dropping fast asleep every so often and happily continued to play as if I was still awake.
The pattern continued for a few more hours, during which I seemed to manage to help care for her baby dolly and clean and tidy the dolls house. Not that I have a huge recollection of either.
At lunchtime the Boy came home. I cooked the family lunch, whereafter I promptly fell asleep and spent most of the rest of the day in a similar state.
The sarcastic cynic. Or something like that
4 weeks ago