It has been a week of feeling like crap.
My migraine finally left the building today, after three days of me wanting to saw my own head off, and last night deciding that as it had been going on so long I clearly had a brain tumour, and this was the end.
I got a bit tearful at this point. As you do, in the darkest reaches of the night. Convinced the children would find me in the morning, inert and lifeless, and have to find a way to break the news to Jason while he was still in full orcing regalia.
It was so tragic.
Also tragic, and a bit odd, was the fact that earlier in the week I also managed to stub my toe on the back of a chair in a cinema when I went to see The Globe’s version of Taming of the Shrew (very good by the way), and rip a big hole in said toe to the point where I bled into my shoe throughout the performance. I was already watching the performance with one eye only, due to having my hand clamped over the other eye like a migrainous pirate.
It was not my finest hour.
It was one of my bloodiest though. My foot was very impressive by the time I limped through the doorway and waved it at Jason.
Add to that, poor Tilly being violently ill in the wee small hours of Friday morning, meaning that she could not go on her long anticipated camping trip on Friday with Tallulah and my cousin, and really we should just draw a veil.
It has been a rather Victorian week on the health front, all things considered.
Today, however, we awoke with cautious optimism.
My head did not fall off. My toe did not explode, my daughter did not die of namelessly horrible things, and none of my other children did either.
We spent the day tiptoeing around ourselves, just in case of emergency. It was all very health and safety – and a bit ‘SAFETY FIRST!’ as Jason likes to shout just as he does something not very safe at all.
We stayed at home. We cleaned more holiday related sand out of places holiday related sand should not, but always does, go. We cooked and ate a nice meal. Tallulah came back in one piece from her first camping extravaganza. My cousin looked like hell, and hadn’t slept a wink. Tallulah was hale and hearty and raring to go.
This is what children do to adults.
They are like tiny vampires – tiny vampires who like the Disney Channel.
I am just glad it wasn’t me camping, as that would have been the bitter end.
I am finally making some headway with the enormous amount of reading material stacked around my bed. It is nice to be able to read without crying because my eyes are trying to climb out of their sockets and beat me to death with one of my own shoes.
Things are looking up.
I have put clean sheets on my bed. Clean sheets that have been drying all afternoon in the sunshine, and which smell delicious.
I suspect this means we will be struck down in the early hours by some relative of the Ebola virus, where we vomit incessantly, before liquefying in our own bowels.
Watch this space.