Friday, 11 April 2008

A Pox on your House

Welcome to my blog and we start by plunging into the deep end of family life. What a week! I have two children, both boys, aged 8 and 3. Let's call them M and S. A couple of weeks a go S caught Chicken-Pox. He was miserable and spotty but was soon on the mend. Meanwhile M had just a few spots on his back that barely interfered with his playing on the Nintendo Wii . Soon it was back to school and nursery. All was well until the next day when Polly noticed a couple of new spots on M. Not to worry, you can't catch chicken-pox twice, can you? Apparently you can. M was soon more spot than boy. He had a high temperature and vivid blistering spots everywhere, including one actually on his eyeball. As a result there were a couple of visits to the eye hospital and several virtually sleepless nights for Polly as she dabbed on Calamine lotion and administered Calpol. Now all this might be considered unfortunate but all part of the ups and downs of family life. But...

Polly, for the past six months, has been diligently training for the London Marathon. The marathon is this Sunday and all the training regimes stress the need to get lots of rest. No where does it suggest that 6 hours sleep in 72 is the ideal preparation. A lot is riding on this Sunday. Polly has put in countless hours of training and raised several thousand pounds in sponsorship for the Muscular Dystrophy Campaign. Friends are travelling from all over to come and support her. Unfortunately the poor girl can hardly keep her eyes open. Well, okay says you, kind and concerned reader, surely now is the time to show how much you love her and be the one getting up seven times a night to minister to your sick child. Oh that it was that simple. You see getting in and out of bed is a 20 minute ordeal each way. It involves electric beds, hoists and ventilators. It involves glide sheets and the precise positioning of a wheelchair. It involves a great deal of effort. It is actually easier for Polly to run 26 miles on just a few hours sleep than get me in and out of bed. Besides, M sleeps on the top bunk and I couldn't reach him however much I wanted to.

So if you see an orange clad, small, bobbed haired women sleepwalking the Marathon this Sunday remember that she's actually getting more rest than normal.

Goodbye until next time.

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