The Perfect Father's Day Gift: A 'Cornwall Detox & Colonic':

"My tummy feels hot, Mummy." My son declares in the car.
"Oh, it's just the sun. It's a hot day, darling." I reply back, in complete ignorance to my son's statement.
"BLEUGGGGHHHHHHHH!" spouts pink raspberry jam tinged vomit out of his mouth.


Right, so, just for the record, if your child vaguely declares something a bit odd, it may means that they are about to vomit lurid coloured sick all over your people carrier.

Of course, there we clues to this illness on our summer holiday to Cornwall from the first day:
 
 
Innocent hot tub or emesis inducer?

After my first dip in the hot tub I felt rather sicky. But of course that was probably just because I spent way over the allotted amount of time in there as stipulated by the instructions (and consumed half a bottle of wine, also as stipulated not to do, in the instructions).
Or was it the perfect body temperature that the hot tub bubbled away at just breeding some little vom bugs? No, no, it was chlorinated so they should all of had a group genocide party in the tub. 

I mentioned it to my mum.
"It's the different water here." She said knowingly.
 
Of Course - It was the Cornish water! Well known for cholera infested water...or is it the same water that has been rigorously processed at water treatment plants like the rest of the UK?

The next day, the baby coughed up his Readybrek.
"It's just his reflux." I said.
The 'reflux' continued for the rest of the day, along with a week full of clinginess and on/off bottle refusal.
"It's just the different scenery...the lack of blackout curtains....the fact this caravan has the climate control of a mobile school classroom..." And so the excuses continued, until the trip home and the 'hot tummy' declaration.

"Burrrrp!" My husband belched. We had just stopped of for McDonalds on route home.
"My stomach's cramping, urgh" He said.
 
"Maybe is was that McChicken Sandwich" I replied, winding down the window to let the partially digested burger scent waft out.
"Don't you remember that story that once someone bit into their McChicken sandwich and it wasn't mayonnaise that came out, but they had bitten into a giant chicken cyst in the burger and it was all this pus..." I regaled.
 
"That's called an urban legend." My husband retorted. "And I feel even more sick now."
 
Of course, it must be McDonalds. THE most blamed food poisoning restaurant in the world...but Mcdonalds actually has quite high hygeine standards and the symptoms started in the family before then.

Just then a yoghuty stench wafted through go the front seats.
 
"I think the baby needs changing." I said.
"Again??" Said my husband.
"Has he done a big poo or a little poo?" said our oldest son.
"I don't know..." I said rumagaing in the change bag.
"..But we only have swim nappies left." A sure sign that the shit had truly hit the fan and a realisation that we all had proper D&V due to 'normal nappy' depletion.

We packaged the baby up in some winnie the poo swim nappy ensemble, tossed the stinking package in the bin at the roadside loos (the used nappy, not the baby) and crafted a 'Hazardous waste' barrier with nappy sacks and wipes round it.

Father's day arrived today. Everyone feels decidedly icky.
 
There was vomit on the sofa, floor, walls and down the side of the bed. It was like the aftermath of a house party in the early noughties, complete with multicoloured secretions adorning the house (although this was a rainbow of children's sick mixed with various fruit jams and not lurid coloured WKD spew).
 
"It was the ball pool." My husband said.
 
The ball pool. OF COURSE. It was the mother ducking ball pool.
 
 
The Cess Pit
 
Since 2013 I had banned all activity in the ball pool after frequent baby tummy bugs, but whilst on holiday my I had become lax. I'd go as far as to say committed irresponsible parenting - I'd let them in that cess pit 4 times.
 
Yes, they had swum in quagmire of D&V...the stream of Cornwall's dribbly mouthed and loose bottom children's viral secretions...the cess pit of spherical viral bombs...The ball pool. 
 
Tonight, we have gifted Daddy a night on the (bathroom) tiles. We have treated him to a full detox and colonic, courtesy of Mr Norovirus.
 
Looking back to this morning, he already had his cards marked: 
 
"Happy Father's day!" I had badgered my eldest into saying this morning.
 
"Appy farter's day!" He had retorted in his unwitting future synopsis.
 
His actual Father's day gift (NB: I may of snarfed some of the Lindor).


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So, dare I ask, how was your father's day?
 
 
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6 comments:

  1. Hahaha, reminds me of the time that we went to CenterParcs and everyone caught a D&V bug on our return. It wasn't the ball pool though as they had shut the soft play due to a rampant sickness bug - just hadn't told the holiday makers. We found out via the local news prior to departure. Never again! Hope you are all feeling better soon. xx

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    1. Urgh, anywhere that children congregate is where their little friends (viruses) hang out too. Soft play is just the WORST for this. Though when you want a quick Cornish cider (or Centreparcs cider) and you need to kids amused in the onsite softplay in the bar, then needs must...until next time!

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  2. Bleurgh. My worst nightmare — literally the only time I've lost my sense of humour and felt like I couldn't handle the responsibility of parenthood was when we all caught S&D. Yuk. I do feel for you. Bloody ball pools!!! Making a mental note to self to impose a total ban!! ;) Thanks so much for linking up with #TwinklyTuesday — hope to see you again next week! x

    Caro | www.thetwinklediaries.co.uk

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    1. Thanks, we are all better now. And we are never entering a ball pool again!

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  3. Ah yes the joys of germy soft play areas! Sorry to hear that you've all been unwell though and hope that you are all feeling better now!

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    1. Urgh soft play - it giveth and it take away-eth. All vom has stopped now and we are back to normal, thanks!

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