What a morning

I rather think we should have had a dry run for this morning’s return of the Lovely Melanie to work and Bubbah’s proper start at nursery, perhaps then it might have gone a bit more smoothly.

However, upon reflection the only thing that might have been avoided would have been the Lovely Melanie getting all the way to the station before realising she had forgotten her wallet and having to walk back from the station to get it.  We couldn’t have avoided Millie being sick all last night – starting from…well, starting from when we went to bed and continuing until…hmm…until about an hour before the Lovely Melanie had to get up for work.

Millie was sick once in her own bed, so we changed her pillow case and pyjamas, gave her a cuddle and put her back to bed.

15 minutes later she was sick again and we got her a clean pillow and put her back to bed.

20 minutes later, sick again, so we put a towel underneath her to catch any further sick.

20 minutes later, more sick, and we bring her into our bed as she’s a bit upset.

10 minutes later – a little bit more sick; we fold the towel over rather than get another clean one out.  I fetch a bowl from downstairs.

Next four hours: Millie is either fidgeting or being sick.  Regardless, we are all awake.

So it’s hardly surprising the Lovely Melanie forgot her purse – frankly, on that much sleep before her first day at work in a year I’m amazed she remembered to get dressed, let alone where the train station is and how to get to work!

I had the – ahem – privilege of getting the girls up, dressed, fed, washed and transported to nursery by myself this morning, which was a bit stressful, and I may have been less than sympathetic with their problems at times (especially problems that dollies or imaginary friends kept having…)

On the plus side,  Millie seemed a lot better – didn’t eat a lot of breakfast, but ate some, so she’s gone to nursery.

Bubbah is also at nursery for her first proper full day.  But Bubbah, she no like nursery (as we say here).  She didn’t want to be put down when we got there; she really didn’t want to sit with any of the aunties, and she really really didn’t want to be ‘abandoned’ by her parents – thrown, destitute and alone, without a friend in the world, upon the cold mercy of an uncaring world, bereft of hope, homeless, an orphan, doomed to wash upon the tides of civilisation…

Or so you might have thought had you heard her crying.  On a scale of one to ten (one being extremely happy, ten being extremely unhappy) Bubbah was roughly a 23.

And me?  I’m taking the piss a bit with my employers by working from home again because I fully expect nursery to ring at any moment asking me to come and collect one or both of our girls.

One hell of a day so far, and it’s barely 10am.

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