Chunky Monkey

Friday, 5 December 2008

The Baby is still insisting that sleep is for the weak and The Child is in agreement. I think it's a conspiracy. Arse.

The Baby is also a snot factory which yes, is as unpleasant as it sounds. She has Medicine to take which she happily takes downstairs yet should you try and administer it when she wakes up screaming in the night you would think we were skinning her alive. Needless to say nobody will need their ears syringing within a 20 mile radius for a considerably long time. Somehow I think "Love Thy Neighbours" won't come into it. Never mind, can't say I like them much anyway.

She decided to jazz up the nightmare that is bedtime the other night and proceeded to vomit exorcist style, thankfully mostly over herself. When your offspring vomits, is a true test of your love. You sit paralysed with disgust and repulsion staring at the horror that was your bedding or even worse, maybe your clothing too and then you look at the shivering blubbing vomit coated offspring and coo soothingly at them whilst cuddling them and removing their vomit sudden clothes when actually you're dying to mutter " you revolting little bedding! Look at my bedding!" whilst realising that oh dear God, you have to actually touch them.

You spend the rest of the night hovering between sleep and wakefulness afraid to give in to slumber in case a) there's a repeat performance or b) you missed a bit on operation fumble cleanup in the middle of the night and accidentally lay on a chunk or two whilst inhaling the not so subtle aroma of fruit and hotdogs, regurgitated. Yum.


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