Twenty days of Chicken Pox

Twenty days of Chicken Pox

 Day one.

It was the 9th November. It was a Wednesday.

I quite like Wednesdays. I feel guilty saying that I quite like Wednesdays…

Biggest small goes to nursery on Wednesdays. (Hurrah!) And on that particular Wednesday, Granny would be taking him home from nursery (she owns it) for tea and a sleep over at hers. (Double hurrah!) So Wednesdays are my day. My day for my getting shit together. My day for regaining my composure and self-control. My day for blitzing the house; washing the dinner dishes from the last two nights, clearing away the mountains of toys, rediscovering the colour of my floors and actually mopping those newly discovered floors (without Toddlepants running through the wetness at full speed, power sliding across the length of the room and purposely smashing his little face off of the radiator).

I quite like Wednesdays. Not this particular Wednesday though… On this Wednesday, there were spots.

Here a spot, there a spot, everywhere a spot spot.

Travis had Chicken Pox. There was no doubt about it. I’ve often misdiagnosed his spots and rashes, like last Christmas when he had Hand, Foot and Mouth and I felt for sure that it was Chicken Pox. Nope, this was definitely Chicken Pox… And Delilah was due her first lot of immunisations the next morning. Bugger!

I rang up the Docs and got her jabs delayed a week just in case she had caught her big brother’s “Ticken Spots” and was about to break out. It would have been too much for her at just 8 weeks old to have to fight off Chicken Pox and deal with the horrible side effects of the new Meningitis B vaccine.

Travis kept sprouting new spots for the five longest days of my entire life! (Thank god for TV!) Those spots then took another five even longer days to completely scab over. If you know anything about Chicken Pox, you’ll know that it’s highly contagious and you’ll be massively frowned upon if you’re caught taking your human/dalmatian hybrid out in public. So we went into hibernation. Unfortunately our Sky TV is broken meaning we were stuck with Netflix and Amazon Prime Video. We must have watched ‘The Gruffalo‘, ‘The Gruffalo’s Child‘ and all of the ‘Thomas and Friends‘ episodes and movies at least twenty times each over the course of those ten looooong-ass days. I’m not proud to say that I can now recite every line from them all.

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The worst of it…

Days three and four were not fun – the first spots, the biggest of the lot, had begun to scab. Night three, was the worst. Travis was waking in the night, crying and thrashing around under the bed covers. It was around midnight when we pulled him out of bed, dosed him up with Calpol and Benedryl and popped on some PoxClin (what fantastic stuff! It’s this foam that you can just rub all over your child’s crusty little body and it gives them instant relief). We were more prepared for night four. We did the Calpol/Benedryl/PoxClin (knock your child out) combo just before bed. He fidgeted the entire night, but he slept.

Travis was very good at not scratching his spots. Although, his cuddles had become very wriggly cuddles. Yep, he was using us as scratching posts.

Eventually, the spots had all scabbed over! And even better, Delilah had avoided them! Whoopee! We could finally come out of hibernation!

Except… We couldn’t.

Here we go again!

Exactly ten days after Travis’ first lot of spots, I sat down that evening (after a lovely day out taking the crusty one and the other one to see Granny) to breastfeed my miserable little post-two-day-immunisation-nine-week-old, when I spotted a spot. GODDAMMIT!

I really thought she’d managed to avoid them. I thought my mighty, magical breastmilk had passed on my immunities to her but there it was, a spot, right on the top of her pretty little head and quickly growing in size right before my eyes. Within 5 minutes, six more had popped up around her darling little face. In some way, my magical breastmilk has passed on some immunity. Delilah’s Chicken Pox is very mild compared to her big brother’s. Whereas he had around three hundred spots, she’s gotten away with a mere fifty-odd.

Delilah’s little immune system has certainly taken a beating over the last week but she’s fought it all off like a trooper. She’s been full of smiles and tackled it all in the best way possible – by sleeping it off. My goodness, she’s slept!

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Which brings us to today…

Toddlepants is enjoying days out (and nights in) with his grandparents, free to show his slightly less scabby face in public once again, and Delilah and I, well… We’re out too. That’s one of the great things about a 10 week old with Chicken Pox… You can hide them away, nuzzled up in a sling or kept under quarantine of the pram’s rain cover during a nice rainy-day walk. Her spots are just starting to scab over now so we’ve probably got around five more days of her being contagious before we can stop avoiding our friends. I’m so desperate for a good mummy catch-up!

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At least that’s Chicken Pox done and out of the way for my gruesome-twosome. Pass me the wine.

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