It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your….

Don’t worry, this isn’t a post about stripping or catchy tunes from 2002.

Instead, I’m going to talk to you today about thermometers. Or rather, a thermometer. Being the terribly ill-prepared (pun not intended, but while it’s there I’m going to stick with it) parents that we are, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and myself have never invested in a baby thermometer.

On the rare couple of occasions we’ve needed one, we’ve nipped next door and borrowed theirs. But as time goes on and the amount of earwax Frog shares with the neighbours increases, we thought it about time to make a thermometer purchase.

The day the virus came to stay

My baby’s poorly – and it stinks.

No, really, it stinks.

There’s nothing quite like being woken at 2am to change a nappy that smells like something concocted by a mad scientist with a penchant for experiments created out of dustbins and sick. Yum.

It’s been a week now. At first we thought it was the teeth. “It’s those bloody teeth again,” I told the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine knowingly. Then, when a tooth failed to appear, I blamed the water in Rochdale. “It’s this water, it’s different from the Southern stuff she’s used to,” I pronounced, equally as knowingly.

Sick note

I’ve got the lurgy.

Nothing too traumatic, I’ll survive. But it’s days like today when I wish I could get a sick note and have the day off.

Lesson #43: there are no sick days when you have a baby.

It makes me realise what a tough nut my mum is. The only time I ever remember her being poorly was when she came off her bike and fractured her pelvis. I can clearly see her lying on the floor in the living room, with just her feet poking out from behind the sofa.

Apparently it was the only place she could get comfortable as she couldn’t make it up the stairs. But I have my suspicions she was trying to find a hiding place from my sister and I. I’m not sure our constant cartwheels and requests of “Can I bandage your leg, mum?” were particularly helpful.

Anyway, I’m off to recline on the sofa and put a cold compress to my brow.  I have a feeling, though, that as soon as I get comfortable, Frog will wake up and demand something or other. Oh well, at least she can’t do cartwheels yet.