Eau du Vomit

Unfortunately I am not one of those mums at the school gates that looks calm, well-presented and in control. I am the one that looks dishevelled and harassed, running up and down the pavement chasing my son. Other mums casually chat with each other whilst their offspring play close by. Not me. I start conversations but never finish them, having to break off and run after Ethan. Wonderful , exuberant and full of the joys of life but you'd think he was fed on a diet of fireworks and coca-cola. Who needs a gym when you've got an Ethan?

Today, when I pick up my daughter on her last day of school before the Summer holidays, I will probably smell of sick. Things didn't start well. By 9.30 am I had missed an emergency dental appointment for a sore tooth which will just have to remain sore, due to poor Ethan projectile vomiting three times down the back of my neck in the car on the way there. The icing on the cake was returning home to find the hallway strewn with the stuffing from Rosie Dog's bed. The limp casing discarded in the corner. Well that didn't last long, like everything else in this house. Ignoring the dog and thinking that she will just have to sleep on the bare floorboards tonight, I concentrated on getting poorly Ethan in the bath and then bed. At least I managed this successfully and it afforded me three glorious hours in which to disinfect the car.

Two loads of washing, one gleaming car inside and out, and a blog later, my son still hasn't woken up. Ironing, cleaning and packing still left to do for a two week trip to grandparents but for once in my life, I think I might sit down, finish my breakfast which is now more of a brunch, and wait for him to wake up. Bliss.