Cheerio pox! Hello sleeping, eating, pretty, cheerio eating baby.

Cheerios have become synonymous with the stench of sh*t in our house. I can no longer tell the difference between cheerios and poo. Husband walks into kitchen at breakfast time;

“whats that STINK?! Has Alex shat himself?!”

“no darling, thats breakfast”.

They just smell the same….going in and going out….

Anyway, todays ingredients are –  An onion, oats, bicarb of soda and some lavender. For tonights meal? No. For tonights battle against the pox. Oh and wine.

So, the pox is back in our house. Ed lulled us into a false sense of security with his bout. He suffered, but the Gruffalo pulled him through and he was ok. The Alex got it and got really aggressive and kept headbutting us. “Maybe his head is itchy?” my husband says as Alex nuts him repeatedly shouting “NOOOOOOOO!”.

He really struggled and was all itchy and gross looking with this moustache of snot and spots and didn’t sleep. For days. For DAYS. I don’t just mean naps. I mean, he didn’t sleep. We took it in shifts and I came downstairs at 1am to find Alex bouncing on the open door of the dishwasher (he was at least happy) and my husband cooking; ” We are having a cheese and toast party!” he said. I went back to bed.

Tips we found helped *strokes pretend beard. No wait, strokes actual beard (its my age)*

  • Calpol and ibuproufen, of course. Some of our friends recommended Medicet…but we decided not to go for this. I know it has been banned for under 6’s or something and you have to lie to the chemist to get it. Some of our friends assured us this was because some people got silly and overdosed their children on it. But we just decided not to go for it and try alternatives.
  • Bi-carb of soda in the bath. Couple of spoons.
  • Virasoothe. Apparently calamine lotion isn’t recommended anymore because it is too drying on the skin. My mother laughed when I told her this.
  • Oats in the bath. Good old porridge oats, a handful in a muslin cloth, in the bath. Bish bash bosh.
  • Antihistimines. Chemist warned me they could make baby drowsy. Her ripped off bloody arm is still attached to the box.
  • Aqueous and calamine lotion. And a bonus is it pink. I don’t get a lot of pink things in my house of willies. It was pleasing. And cheap as chips. Cheaper even. About £1.30 a pot.
  • An onion. Honest. A sliced onion in the room helps to keep the head clear during the night. Not specifically to help pox, but it helps the symptoms of pox. (also, by the by, did you know that onions are a big source of food poisoning? If the onion is a bit green, don’t eat it – it is bacteria)
  • Eurax. Not laxative for the europeans but anti-itch cream for everyone.
  • Kleenex menthol tissues. Super soft and good for the following…runny snot, sticky snot, dried morning snot, green snot, yellow snot, caked on snot and constant snot. Perfect for nose wiping, blowing, gentle chiselling and the delicate dab. All is good in this snotty hood.
  • Aloe vera gel. Soothing. Smells nice. And irristiably cheery – can’t help but say “allo Vera!” in cheery Northern voice.
  • Lavender oil – couple of dabs on a hanky in the bedroom is super soothing, relaxing and lovely.
  • Wine for mummies and daddies
  • Radox for mummies and daddies baths.
  • Catch mit to catch the creamy, gelled, dopey and drugged slippery little bugger after all of the above has been applied.

January 23, 2012. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Chicken pox. Leave a comment.

Mary Poppins is about to put the children in the never-ending carpet bag

The recovery period has started. I’m not sure I like it. I have a little feeling I may be having my chain yanked here…just a guess, you know? Ed’s prior ability to communicate in sentences has been replaced with single words, strung out in wingey voices.  “Tiiiieeeereeed”. He put down his spoon in his cereal bowl this morning (never not been ill enough to eat of course) and casted his eyes down to his bowl…then they flickered up to make sure I was watching him…”chwerioooo’s”. Single words+Baby voice+no please or thankyou = irritated mother whose knuckles turn white as she grips the milk carton.

It was a miracle we survived breakfast. Or rather, a miracle that Ed did. Alex had climbed out of his highchair and across the breakfast bar and was sucking on the antibacterial spray before I realised. It was time to get out of the house and see other people. I tried to put Eds shoes on and he wailed about how I was putting them on “No one UNDERSTANDS me, mummy!”. And despite myself I smiled at this – I always wondered how I would handle a teenage girl. And now I knew.

Before he was a floppy mess lying under a blanket on the sofa, the stench of the mornings cheerios and disease being breathed out of his constantly open mouth, looking pathetic, like a little kitten you see on one of those adverts (please help find Moggy a home, she stinks and has mange etc). Now I hear his feet scampering round the lounge as I approach down the hallway to check on him, a quick body launch on to the sofa and a shuffle under the blanket. “JUICE!” he barks at me. I smile through gritted teeth as I silently shut the door. “He is still ill” i tell myself…

But it is a struggle. I dont know how my own mother did it. The whinging alone is awful. *throws hands in the air and clasps them in a praying position…think Madonna in Like a Prayer….with a pinny…and a few christmas pounds in need of shifting…*. I need the whinging to stop. Or to be so frequent I become deaf to that particular wave length. I need to be deaf.

During the peak of open sores I picked him up under his arms and the poor little love screamed his head off (you can tell I was genuinely concerned because of my choice of words…poor little love).  Maybe this caused him to get flash backs, a sort of PTSD (Pox Traumatised Spot Disaster) or, realistically maybe he is just getting clever at working his poorliness, but this is what he said to me as three days later;  I carefully lifted him gently and with the care required by a carer being examined for their NVQ3 in CARE, under his bottom, and into the car in the car park as Tesco….”Why are you HURTING ME?!!! You and daddy HURT ME!”. Imagine Homer Simpson throttled Bart round the neck and saying “why you little!”.

But I did learn something I want to pass on to others…

Apparently balloons really help a spotty willy. I wouldn’t recommend using this for advertising stuff but, Ed assures me buying him some will help him recover. It perked him up anyways.

January 20, 2012. Tags: , , , , , . Chicken pox. Leave a comment.

Oh help! Oh yes! It’s The Gruffalo Live

The pox hit our village. Just put a big cross on the door, pop on the telly and crack open the biscuits and virasoothe.

With the 3 year old slouched on the sofa, riddled with spots and only speaking in grunts, I had flash fowards to when he would be 15 and doing much the same. The only things keeping him happy him happy were; 1) the fact i told him that the spots on his chest had formed a dot to dot of a digger. This was of course a lie. 2) The Gruffalo on DVD. He was watching it cuddling his Gruffalo toy, his silky blanket and two of the hoover attatchments…maybe I need to slow down on the calpol. We were on our 5th showing of The Gruffalo, in a ROW, and my mind started to wander…

Imagine if the mouse in the Gruffalo was voiced by Brad Pitt. It wouldn’t work. As brilliant as Brad is, he couldn’t do “mouse”. Only James Corden can pull it off. His cheeky chappy voice (I smile whimsically and with appreciation even as I write this). He is also the only one who can get away with all that time-filling sighing without making it sound like porn. Although, having said that, perhaps the following people could pull off the voices for some of the characters in The Gruffalo;

The mouse; Morgan Freeman; shut your eyes and imagine. It would be dreamy. Imagine his deep soothing voice saying “Waaahh thaynkyou Fawx, but…nooo. Iawm off to have tea (Morgan’s characteristic pause), with (and again) a Grauwfalow”.

The owl; Arnold Schwartzeneger. “Leedle brawwwwn mawwwse. Cawm fowwr deeenar, or I weeel bazooooka yoooo”.

Still on the owl…Or Antony Hopkins. Oh yes, that would work. He’d be a good owl. Come and have some chianti in my tree top house. All sinister and classy. (and not encouraging the kids to drink, of course. They wont know what a chianti is. And if they do that is really sad and it’s a whole other issue to address, probably more important than thinking up new voices for The Gruffalo.)

The snake; It has to be Clint Eastwood. Come into my log pile house, punk. *curls upper lip*.

The Fox. Bill Nighy. All swagger and tight jeans, swilling around a glass of wine with a load of back up groupie Adders behind him. ( searched high and low for a useable quote from Love Actually. There is none appropriate to link with The Gruffalo)

Or Michael Cain. “Arrwright little brown mouse. show some bladdy respect”.

The Gruffalo Live is touring again – Thank God. We got to the 7th viewing in the end, in one day, and I had to cut Ed off. Yes he had the pox. Yes he was riddled with pus and scabs and itchy and yes I had slammed his head (accidently) in the car door earlier on in the day, but I couldn’t cope anymore. It became a case of “Oh help. Oh No. It’s The (bloody) Gruffalo (again)”. As much as I love James and Robbie and Rob and Helena. It is always nice to get a different interpretation on things and a different set of voices. Therefore, the live show is always a must and is positively charming and endearing. Please follow them on twitter (and say i sent you). @theGruffaloLive

January 11, 2012. Tags: , , . Chicken pox. 2 comments.