There is only one more day of term after today with the promise of a relaxing Easter break tantalisingly close.
But I cannot enjoy any of this.
My poor little boy is sick.
It started last night when he got into bed with me then vomited explosively.
I have not felt rested for some time because the whole family have been plagued with persistent coughs that always decide to be their most irritating during the hours when the comfort of sleep is so desperately needed. Every night I optimistically hope that this will be the night I manage a good uninterrupted night of blissful slumber. Last night certainly was NOT the night.
Stripping beds, turning mattresses and cleaning vomit off walls, carpets and furniture are not activities of choice for the early hours. My husband took care of a slightly dazed 5 year old while I put sick drenched bed linen and pyjamas into the washing machine and tried to keep myself from falling apart.
The trusty sick bucket is at hand now. I have a little more work to do to get the house back to where we were before the whole sorry incident began. I have even managed to get a some sleep so I don't feel quite so broken.
I am so sorry that my little man will miss these last two days of term. I know there are lots of fun activities planned for the children that he would have been so excited by. All that really matters though is taking care of my brave boy and getting him back to his happy, healthy self.
He is sleeping now... an angelic face at peace. The sick bucket at his bedside reminds me that the peace can be shattered in an instant.
The sick bucket is ready. I am ready. The sun is still shining.