I’ve just been sat here staring at all of the blog post ideas I have written down but nothing was jumping out to me. I kept wondering why am I not feeling anything for these topics? I wrote those ideas down because at the time they came to me as a great idea for a blog post. But now? Nothing. Nada. I wasn’t feeling inspired by any of it.
You see it’s because I have just spent the last few days in toddler hell. I love my child and I would go to the ends of the earth for her but my god, she’s a devil child when she’s ill!
She woke up the previous Saturday morning as normal. We had breakfast, which meant she ate half of hers and flung the other half over the floor. She played, which meant she took all of her toys from their neat little homes in the living room and flung them into several, “near-death-experience-piles” (as I like to call them) around the room and over the baby-gate into the kitchen (these reach level 10 on the “near-death-experience” scales because I forget she’s done it).
However, all of this was normal. Her grandparents picked her up in the morning as they were having her for the day and I had a day out to myself with some friends at a beer festival (it’s safe to say I let my hair down).
Sunday morning, I woke up “slightly” hungover to a crying Ivy and something scratched at the back of my brain. Had Stuart told me last night that Ivy hadn’t been well at his parents? I could vaguely remember that hazy conversation. But I was soon about to find out for myself anyway.
Have you tried to get a temperature reading from a toddler? Well then you don’t know a struggle more severe. I have one of those thermometers that can be taken from either their ears, under their tongue, under their armpit or up their rectum (yup!). I tried in her ears, she wouldn’t have any of it, she kept shaking her head from side to side that I thought the thermometer was bound to get shoved right down her ear so I gave that up pretty quickly.
Then I tried under her tongue and the same thing happened. So I tried under her arm pit, to which Ivy was now hysterically crying and going the shade of a tomato. I got Stuart to hold her while she calmed down and then I could try again from the top. Ears, no. Tongue, no. Arm pit, no. So Stuart shouted “OH JUST SHOVE IT UP HER BUM!” To which I shouted back “I DON’T BLOODY THINK SO!”
Eventually after a few failed attempts and ‘error’ flashing up on the thermometer for the hundredth time; I managed to get a reading from under her arm pit which said that she had a slight temperature but nothing to really worry about (all that for that?)
So I topped her up with medicine and she spent the rest of the day cuddled up to me or her dad watching Peppa Pig (new obsession). I actually didn’t mind it because I wasn’t feeling too well myself, which was totally unrelated to the amount of alcohol consumed from between the hours of 1pm until 11pm the previous day (Stuart if you’re reading this…).
It was the next day that all hell broke loose and my child was replaced by Satan himself. If she wasn’t crying, she was screaming. If she wasn’t hitting me, she was biting me. If she wasn’t throwing food, then she was throwing toys and they all landed in my general direction. Nothing I did would satisfy her or if it did then it didn’t last longer than 10 minutes.
This carried on for several days. I didn’t shower. The house looked a tip because it was being neglected, we both were. I have been following Slimming World for a few weeks now and that went completely out of the window because I either didn’t eat or I grabbed whatever was easy and to hand.
We weren’t sleeping because Ivy was so unsettled and then when she was sleeping I felt like I was staring at the ceiling waiting for her to wake up again. Stuart also had “The Man Flu” so he was coughing his guts up all night and tossing and turning and burning up like a furnace. I had no chance.
If I tried to focus on anything else but Ivy during the day then the whole street would know about it. Of course I couldn’t be angry at her, she was ill. She didn’t know any other way to express herself other than to take it out on me. They say that we take stuff out on the people we love the most so I’m sticking with that theory.
I honestly felt like the past week I have been thrown back into the very early newborn stages of parenting. I am sleep deprived and I have gone stir crazy from having no interaction with the outside world! So I thought I would give you a few “tips” on how to survive or at least scrape through when your toddler is ill and they have been replaced by a devil child.
- Make sure your house is stocked up on coffee or any kind of caffeine you can get your hands on. YOU WILL NEED IT ALL.
- Count to ten in your head if you feel your tolerance levels have reached breaking point and remember “This isn’t my child, this child has been replaced by Beelzebub and will return to me REALLY SOON!”
- Have a relative or friend bring you a survival pack that consists of, fresh food, deodorant, dry shampoo, painkillers (you will need them for the constant headache) and wine. LOTS AND LOTS OF WINE (but try to hold off on consuming this BEFORE your child is in bed).
- Have an “Approach With Caution” sign or an “Only Speak To Me If You Have Wine” sign attached to you at all times so that your partner knows you will not tolerate his sh*t as well.
- Invest in those cheapo thermometers that you only have to place on the child’s head to get a reading because anything else is a waste of money and a good waste of half an hour!
- Remember that this too shall pass and your “angel” child shall reappear and that deep down you really do love them.