Lurgylicious

We are just emerging from the depths of the lurgy. I have had more bodily fluids dumped on me than a pub toilet at closing time, and my washing machine is probably a good year closer to packing in and moving to Silicon Heaven. It hasn't been pretty.

Emily was the first to be struck down and is a victim of the MMR jab. She spiked a scarily high temperature during naptime (I should have realised something was up when she actually went to sleep instead of her more usual screaming that she NEEDS to be downstairs, thank you very much Mummy). So I stripped her off, doped her up and cuddled her as suggested by the lovely nurse at NHS Direct.

Not ten minutes later, Fee had a nuclear explosion in her nappy. I'd never seen it drip from the top and the bottom at the same time, and I hope never to again. That required a change of clothes for both her and me, more doping up and lots more cuddles.

Georgia took this moment of mayhem to demand a feed, and showed her urgency by also filling her nappy in her rage. A change of clothes for her was next on my list. The washing machine was fed as well as the tiny ruler of the house.

The next day was worse. We awoke to find a very grey Fee sat in the remnants of another nuclear explosion, and Emily nappy-less and wet. Both were plunged in the bath and cleaned up, before the growingly familiar doping up and cuddling routine. The first load for the day went in the washing machine.

Fee went straight to the doctors and fell asleep. She was found to have an ear infection and a stomach bug, and was not allowed antibiotics until her stomach was better. So we bought more Calpol and Nurofen and went home to continue the drug regime.

Naptime came. It went very quickly when Emily had a nuclear explosion in bed. She doesn't wear a nappy at naptime so the mess was quite spectacular. Another bath was run, and the washing machine was given another load.

We realised Emily was more poorly than we thought when it was time to get out of the bath. This led to a tantrum of epic proportions (even bigger than the Great Bogey Incident), and lasted a good hour.

We lost interest in the tantrum when Fee threw up over me and the living room. She's never been sick before so her face was quite the picture. It was a cross between "well, that's never happened before" and "holy shit, what the hell just happened to me!". Being a brave girl, she just stood up, brushed it all over me and her father and threw up again.

This pattern was repeated every time she had a sip of water, and her sweet face went from gray to absolutely deathly. So after another chat to the lovely nurse at NHS Direct, we headed off to the triage clinic at the hospital to be checked over. Not before another nappy and outfit changed (for me and for her) was required, though. The washing machine was given another job whilst we we out. Shame it doesn't mop the floor as well....

They decided that Fee would be better at home than being admitted and since she'd finally kept one mouthful of water down she wasn't at imminent risk of problems. So, armed with some prescriptions and the urge to kill the rude doctor, we went home again to begin Operation Get Any Fluid into Fee. For a child that drinks like a fish, we thought this would be ok. Not so. She wasn't having any of it - no bottles, no beakers, no mugs or cups, no straws and definitely no syringes.

She fell asleep in my arms fairly fast, and we decided to just put her to bed with her water as normal. I planned on checking her when I fed Georgia in the night.

Of course, this was THE night. Georgia slept through and I didn't wake! She'd done that once a couple of weeks ago but the 12 week growth spurt had her feeding several times in the night so I hadn't even considered this would be a possibility. I should have known, though. So we rushed in the next morning to find a happy looking Fee and an empty bottle. What a relief! Emily was scarlet with fever and coughing like a smoker with a 40 a day habit, though. And she'd taken her bloody nappy off again so the bed was soaking. The washing machine was less than pleased to get more work.

The day passed in a blur of exploding nappies, medicines and changes of clothes. The house reeked of bodily fluids, and my bins were rapidly filling up with nappies, tissues and cans of Diet Coke - this was not the time to give up my one real vice. My lovely husband went out to get medical supplies (two girls can get through Calpol quite fast) and came back with extra Diet Coke and a McDonalds. It was a moment of bliss.

Today, Fee is reaping the benefits of antibiotics. She's rapidly returning to her sunshiney self - she was toddling across the room singing Knights of Cydonia and throwing her spaceman at the toy schoolhouse just before she went for a nap. Emily, on the other hand, is really struggling. She has a slight case of the measles as a result of her jab, but the cough she also has is quite a bugger. Hopefully, she will back to her slightly horrible two year old self soon, and then she can go see her three year old boyfriend at nursery.

Throughout this, Georgia has been a little angel. We had a lovely conversation late last night before she settled and went to sleep - she has quite the voice on her for 12 weeks, and she is my smiliest baby my far. What was so sweet was when Fee was at her most listless and sad and clingy, patting Georgia still brought a smile to both of their faces. They really do love each other!

And now, while they sleep, I have to make amends with my washing machine and give it a nice empty spin and clean.