Last Thursday I posted a blog post about how much I hated being sick and the shitty weather. And it seems that, I wasn’t the only one suffering from a bit of sick.
On Thursday I needed to travel up to London with Emily, as I was attending a work event for one of my clients in Surbiton. The day itself was supposed to be pretty relaxed, instead it was just one big disaster after another.
By the time that we got to Isleworth, Emily wasn’t in the greatest mood, but then again neither was I. A quick 15 minute chat with mum, a cuppa and a quick freshen up, we were in the car, this time en route to pick up my friend Nicola and make our way to Surbiton. What was supposed to be a 30 minute journey, ended up being an hour and a half.
Poor Emily, she really wasn’t in the mood for this.
When we eventually arrived at Surbiton, Emily was asleep in the car seat, whatever would happen next, mum was with her so it would all be ok, right. Right?
According to my sister, Emily was a bit up-and-down throughout the evening, but beyond feeling like mummy and daddy weren’t around, she was overall okay. About 9:30 in the evening, I arrived home and got ready for bed. The event was a success but I really couldn’t bloody wait until I got into bed. The whole day was just so tiring.
And that’s when the vomiting started.
Out of nowhere, Emily just threw up.
And continued to throw up until 5 am.
Which meant that I didn’t sleep.
You know when you’re in the moment where you’re so tired, but you’re so now beyond tired, that unless you fall asleep with in the next five minutes, that you probably will never sleep again?!
It’s kinda like that really weird moment when we first had Emily and the first two weeks trying to get used to that really fucked up sleeping pattern, and you question yourself as a human, a parent, as anything, like is this it?!
I did, somehow amazingly.
I stayed up all night being at Emilys beck and call. Admittedly the next day I felt like shit. I managed to have an hour and a half power nap before we made our journey back home to Ramsgate.
But even then, the journey home wasn’t much better.
Emily chose 20 minutes into the train journey to Ramsgate to projectile vomit all over herself, the pram, the train, my iPad. So much sick.
Thank God for the lovely father of a toddler sitting next to me, and a few other mums who helped. Wipes, toilet tissues, words of calm, jokes about “it’s never the right time,” and offers of clothing as I frantically tried to clean up without having an emotional breakdown. What is with the staring?
It turns out Emily had a bug, because just a few days late it hit me and that wasn’t pleasant either. Even on top of my head cold.
Trains and sick isn’t a combination that should ever be together. I hope it doesn’t happen again. It’s not pleasant.