An eerie lull settled over the K household yesterday afternoon as Anna started to feel better, but it was only a temporary ceasefire. Now LK is perched over the loo hanging on for dear life.
Basically just as Anna emerges from a sea of vomit - we knew she was feeling better by her repeated requests for Melmo or Thomas (the Tank Engine), LK starts throwing up.
Lots of fun.
At least LK knows to be sick in the toilet. After six days of Anna with the stomach flu our house smells like a student doss house. There is the unmistakeable waft of puke in the air - but where's it coming from? I've Febreezed the crap out of the place, and washed about fifteen loads of pukey towels, but still it lingers. This happened after my 18th birthday party too, until we found out that someone had been sick underneath my Mum's sewing machine (how?!). Unlike my 18th birthday party I have yet to find bottles of booze stashed in the shrubbery and I'm not left wondering how to get that 'Taboo' stain out of the upholstery.
I had to leave work early yesterday to look after my little vominatrix (LK did not start puking til the evening thank goodness). She seemed bright-ish so I took her down to the beach in the jogger, and I attempted to go for a run. Its been *a while* since I last went running, so it went something like this:-
Me - ooomph, crikey, ragged breathing, plod, plod, plod
Anna - barely discernable whimper
Me, stopping - what's that love, you want to get out? You want Mummy to stop running so you can get out?
Anna - WTF?
I ran about a mile and a half before I had to stop, and my legs are killing me today. At least I'm not vomiting though, although I'm understandably nervous about my chances. I'm like a newly pregnant woman, alert to the slightest signs of nausea, but so far so good. Hooray for me, I get to clean it all up!