I’ve had some pretty awesome weeks recently, but last week wasn’t one of them.
I got a call from my ex on Tuesday morning, asking if I could stay home and mind the poorly youngest … nup, I was already at work.
Then I spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday juggling working from home with ministering to the sick (the eldest succumbed and joined her sister on the couch on Friday).
The youngest was swabbed for whopping cough on Tuesday morning. Thursday returned a negative result for whooping cough but a positive result for a throat infection.
These things happen … but they’d only each just spent a whole week on the couch with a throat infection before the school holidays.
That’s a lot of time at home for me.
Somehow I managed to avoid the lurgy both times (my ex, on the other hand, spent Friday/Saturday in bed with it and can confirm the virus is HORRIBLE).
Juggling working from home with tending sick kids is exhausting. I’m totally knackered.
They seem to have contracted the only throat virus known to mankind that makes people ravenously hungry. The wails of “Mum! I’m starving” from the couch were unrelenting.
Wednesday night/Thursday morning was particularly harrowing on the work/sleep/tending front.
I was lying in bed at 10.30pm on Wednesday night and made the mistake of checking Facebook before nodding off. I saw the terrible news that Nick Cave’s 15-year-old son had died.
I was devastated for the Aussie musician – so, so so very sad.
I’m also a journalist who works for a parenting site. After lying in bed for a few minutes thinking I would cover the story in the morning, I sighed, crawled out of my warm bed and headed to the computer.
After it was published, I swallowed something to help me sleep and eventually nodded off.
At 6am I woke and started checking my Instagram feed in preparation for my day as acting news editor of Kidspot.
Michelle Bridges had posted a cryptic message implying she was pregnant. A quick Google search confirmed she was indeed in the family way.
I sighed, crawled out of my warm bed and headed to the computer.
After that story was published the day transformed into a constantly breaking news festival including numerous updates on the body of a child being discovered in a suitcase in South Australia. (Not to mention constant requests for soup, toast, fruit, crackers etc.)
It was fascinating to read the reaction to some of the news stories. People were absolutely furious with Michelle Bridges for being pregnant.
They wrote stuff like:
“Yeah well done, bet your ex wife and kids are ecstatic. Good for you Kidspot great to see you love family values too.”
“Woo hoo! Now we have to put up with all the pre and post baby fitness jargon! Seriously who cares really?! Actually makes me sick that he left his family for a work colleague!”
“The old saying goes “they cheat with you they will cheat on you”. Leopards don’t change their spots.”
“She cheated on her husband and he cheated on his wife who he had 2 children with, but he has 3 kids, great track record,then they left their partners for each other, awesome!!!! Great way to start a relationship no trust issues at all, lets high 5 the happy couple… NOT!!!!”
“Another kid for u to abandon and have nothing to do with and not help there mothers that u bailed on…. prick! U dont deserve ur other children let alone this one! Weak pathetic man.”
You’d think I’d be on their side after my own experience, but I was a bit blindsided at the levels of hate for someone they don’t even know.
I was with the commenters who said:
“I’d rather my child come from a broken home than live in one.”
“Good on them I wish them happiness, move on folks life’s too short.”
In happier news, the week ended with parent drinks for the youngest’s class. One of the mums was nice enough to host it at her gorgeous house. There was even champagne on a tray in the hall on arrival. Fancy!
It was slightly surreal to be talking to one of the school dads and have him mention that he’d read my Brazilian wax blog post … But I suppose that’s what you have to expect when you make the status of your genitals public knowledge.
My booty wasn’t the only thing suffering this week, I was hit with a few minor medical issues and my emotions got quite the work-out too. Nothing that can’t be fixed, but draining all the same.
Fortunately, the week ended beautifully when I had boeuf borgignon cooked for me. How can you hate on a week that ends with someone cooking boeuf borgignon for you?
It was DELICIOUS.
How was your week?
Song of the day: The Beatles “Hard Day’s Night”