weekend from hell

It promised so much: spending time with the grandchildren. I was looking forward to it.

Friday: started routinely enough, cute baby Skye full of smiles, appetitie a bit iffy but no biggy. When she couldn't settle for her morning nap I left her for a while (a la Tizzie Hall's highly disciplined book about settling babies) but she kept whingeing. Poor kid, poo everwhere, the kind where you don't know how to pick her up without being covered yourself. Cleaned her up, changed the bed, topped her up with formula and she slept.

She woke up all smiles (she's so sunny) but low on energy. Ready for a nap after 2 hours. Same routine as before, couldn't settle, found her sitting back against the cot rails in a puddle of you know what. This time she needed a bath. So did I. My top was dotted with the stuff. Yuk.

A phone call: 'Hi Pauline, I've had a car accident, I'm in emergency in RPA. Can you come?' My friend Kit sounded drugged. Luckily Maxine was home, and offered to take care of Mathew and Annika that night (I was supposed to have them over the weekend while the parents went gallivanting in the Blue Mountains)

I raced off to Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Fortunately Kit's injuries weren't serious but her little red Mazda sports car did not fare so well. It's a write off.  I took her home that evening.

Saturday: after ascertaining that Kit was okay and had help, I called Maxine and Dirk. I could hear Mathew at full volume in the background, (their house is so echoey). Dirk sounded weary. It was only 9 o'clock. They were trapped, no car seat for Mathew. I put in a call to the parents.They have 2 car seats, surely one of them was around somewhere!  Ed sounded weary, but for different reasons, late night partying with bourbon. 'Sorry mum, we have one and the other is in the other car...locked and we have the keys.' Cris came up with a solution, 'buy another one.' At Big W in Campsie I found the cheapest legal car seat they had, ($60.00)

I arrived at Maxine and Dirk's at the same time as their dog for the weekend. The air was electric, Annika cowering and screaming, Mathew yelling and jumping, the dog running round in circles and barking, and the baby laughing with delight. (did I mention how sunny she is?) We removed the source of the dog's agitation, namely Annika and Mathew to a garage sale next door. After a walk all was calm. I took the kids away after lunch, to their house to pick up swimming gear (lucky I have house keys ) and some Lego.

To the strains of Alice in Wonderland and Toy Story CDs (acquired from Santa at the Day Care Centre party I missed the night before) we arrived at my flat. I was in need of a seriously large and strong cup of tea. The kids obliged by playing quietly and agreeably. After dark I took the kids round the neighbourhood looking at the Christmas decorations. They really turn it on (literally) in Belfield. We all fell into bed at 10pm, I don't know who was more exhausted, but I suspect it was me.

Sunday: 6.30am. Everyone awake. How do they do it? I thought kids were supposed to have 10 or 11 hours sleep a night! Apparently not. After breakfast the fun began...NOT.

Who would have thought a piece of vegemite toast could trigger such an avalanche. I dashed to the toilet...and again...and again...I'd caught Skye's tummy bug. Oh dear. I'd promised swimming pool action, I couldn't let the kids down, figured that if  I didn't eat anything I'd cope. I was nauseated but managed to hold my own (literally) through the 3 hours at the pool. But as the kids munched on hot chips I began to sag, called the parents to pick up the kids as soon as they could rather than me taking them to their house as previously arranged. They left at 4.30 and I slept for 3 hours.

Post Script: Kit is doing okay but probably has a cracked sternum. It has taken 5 days for me to feel 80% alright. Still low on appetite but hey, could do with losing a few pounds. Will I be able to keep up the tiny meals, the bland diet? Probably not.  Christmas is around the corner.