On the optimism of parents
So, the other night, while I was reading in bed, deep into Sheikh Mohammed’s Flashes of Thought (great book, BTW, easy read, fascinating, inspirational), DH bounded up the stairs.
‘Didn’t you hear? DS is being sick!’ he shouted.
(Um, clearly I did not hear, or I would not still be reading about women in government).
So we leapt to our action stations (me: child; DH: vomity sheets) – action stations that sadly, for me, lasted all night. ALL night. DS vomited every 20-30 mins from 11pm to 6am. By about the 4th time, it was only the sips of water he’d taken. But still: distressing for us both.
Anyway, feeling a bit like I probably shouldn’t be driving children on a major highway having not slept a wink for 32 hours, I asked a friend if she’d be so kind as to pick up DD for me after school the next day.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll get her tomorrow, too, if you like?’
And this is the bit where I surprised myself.
‘Oh no, thank you!’ I said. ‘I’ll be great tomorrow having had a good night’s sleep!’
Let me tell you: I wasn’t feeling so confident come bedtime last night.
What, I repeat, what on earth made me think I would definitely have a good night’s sleep on Day 2 of DS’s violent stomach virus? Parental optimism. That’s what. But you know what? Without it, quite frankly, you’re sunk.