Wednesday 21 September 2016

How Do They Do It?

First, let me say this post is not meant to be patronising in anyway whatsoever. I simply want to share a realization I have had over the last few weeks. A realization followed by admiration.

Let me set the scene. It's Sunday morning and babs is shouting from his cot. He is clearly not happy. There's what sounds like proper crying, not the pretend I want to eat biscuits and watch bloody Peppa kind, the proper kind and as hubs soon discovers there's a good cause. A lumpy, sicky cause. Yes, there's sick in the bed.

A little boy curled up on the sofa with a blanket

I'm across the landing in seconds half awake and half wearing my dressing gown. We aren't sure if he's just done it or done it in the night. Hubs kindly points out its not warm but its not dried up either. For someone who doesn't like sick he seems to be an expert. Maybe his new found expertise are from the sick in the beard incident last year.

Hubs strips him off and comforts him and I strip the bed, rinsing off the sick before a long wash in the on its last legs washer. Then I don't feel well. It maybe one of my many ailments. I may have the lurgy. Babs is active in-between the occasional flaky moment, when he climbs on the sofa and cuddles with me. For the active moments though Daddy is on hand. 

The next day all seems well and Daddy goes to work. I'm about to head out for Snowy Owl duty when babs is sick. This time in the front room. On the new carpet. Bloody brilliant. Its fine we've got this. This time Daddy cleans up. He really has come a long way since the beard incident. I do the comforting. I'm sure there's sick smeared on my clothes but it doesn't matter as babs cuddles into me. 

Yesterday he was sick twice. Once on the kitchen floor and my feet as I make a cuppa. Then again on the carpet, yes the new carpet again, and up the wall for good measure. Fuck. Obviously he needs comforting. He needs his Mumma but Mumma also needs to get the sick off the floor/feet/carpet/wall before the cat or any other passing animal decides to eat it. Shit. What do I do first?

Baby. Obviously baby first. 

I strip him off as he cuddles into me and after plenty of comforting I sit him nearby as I start the wipe up sessions. There's about forty-five minutes in-between the vomming and when we settle on the sofa for more cuddles and comfort I feel lonely and stressed. 

I start to think about my single mum friends. When there's sick on the carpet and a child to be cleaned and comforted, which do you tackle first?

If you're under the weather, who do you have to help? How do you manage?

As a parent you are never off duty but having a partner in your home team means more of a chance catching a break by subbing them in on a shitty day. If you're on your own though there is no super sub warming up in the wings. It's just you. Super duper sub. Always on duty. Always ready to go, whether you want to be or not. Multitasking. Baby in one hand and wet wipes in the other. No real rest and no lye-ins. 

As hubs the super sub comes home and deals with bath time I sort what seems to be the hundredth load of washing and bleach everywhere again. I think of my single parent friends again. 

How do you do it? Bloody legends everyone of you.

Mummy Snowy Owl

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