Unclean.. Unclean

No children today.. boo. Except it wasn't because I slept the afternoon away. Lovely.

The three of us went shopping this morning. My prayers were finally answered and Lal had finally grown a whole shoe size. Goodbye 3.5 G's.. we're reached 4.5 G! He has rather small feet, it's a wonder he can balance really. Two new pairs later,and £40 lighter we met K and they went off with him. Until I remembered that I had the car seat and ran after them. Or tried to run after him in the stupidest sandals ever made. One fell off, I hopped back to it, lost the other one, stooped to pick it up and everything fell out of my purse. I am not used to shopping without a pushchar anymore. I need the handles and basket. I also need to remember that I don't run. I have a mobile phone. They were invented to negate the need to run. I won't forget that in the future.

So, mini melt down in the car park when K decided to take the car seat out of my car and put it in his. Nope. Not happening. I used the tears and pathetic female please don't do it to me trick, and he left with them in my car. I did hope he might be repulsed by the mess in there and clean it.. he wasn't, and didn't. (Oh, my Monicaness only extends to the house and garden, immoveable objects don't count, the car is a walking rolling moving dustbin.)

I bought more things I don't need with money I don't have.. children's clothes. Very nice. Debenhams sale 70% off .. it'd be a crime not to. One day, I may buy myself clothes again and not just rely on things to magically appear. Which they don't, hence me having the same pair of jeans for 12 years. (I do have more than one pair... really)

And then sleep. Afternoon sleep.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Rudely awoken by the phone. It was K, calling from Boots (the chemist, not his shoe) He had noticed that Lal seemed to have a few spots on his back and a couple of his face, and asked the pharmacist what it could be. Suspicions correct. He has The Pox. People can now stand and stare and point and shout "Unclean.. unclean" in his general direction. I may make a sign for him to wear. "Avoid me, I am Pox Ridden" Poor boy. Perfectly well in himself as usual, I am truly hoping that the misery this week has been Pox induced and isn't a symptom of Terrible Toddlers.

He is home, bathed (teeny tiny error made.. didn't realise a warm bath may cause more spots to appear. It did. They have. Spotty spotty boy) and fast asleep. I have Piriton, Calpol and Calamine at the ready.. I may use bags of oats in bath water, baby oil, all the many things I know from my bb are sure fire Pox soothers. But at the moment, with him being all well, I'm feeling slightly redundant.

One small confession, barely a confession really. Just an utterance. I hate spots. I hate touching them, looking at them, imagining them. They make me feel all gooey and icky and yucky and URGH. G had The Pox when she was 2, I made my mum move in and look after her, the spotty sight was too much for me. The feel of her through the vest... still makes me shudder. Sadly, I'm not a pathetic 20 year old any more. I have to be a grown up 30 year old and deal with it.

And besides, mum said she wouldn't come..

K x x