A whole load of yuck

This past week has been all snot and sniffles at our gaffe. It started when I came down with a stinking cold in the middle of last week. My head felt like it was about to explode under the snot pressure, my nose ran like a tap, and I scared Samuel by spending many an afternoon with a tissue stuffed permanently up one nostril. Dignity, always dignity.

Pre-baby, a cold meant that I'd get to spend a day in bed, stressing about work but fully luxuriating in feeling sorry for myself and tweeting about the latest demented story line in Doctors. It doesn't work like that anymore. I mean, I still feel sorry for myself, and I still manage to find the time to tweet about Doctors (the other week, for example, it featured an extended Jane Austen-style costume drama dream sequence. In a GP practice in a suburb of Birmingham. Crackers.), but now I have a demanding little person who needs looking after no matter how rough I feel. It was a proper mum test for a couple of days. Luckily, James was excellent over the weekend. Not only did he look after Samuel and let me sleep in, but he also cooked a chilli that was so hot, I swear it cured my cold.

And, inevitably, just as I started to feel better, Samuel caught my lurgi and it's about a million times worse seeing him poorly. The little mite is so miserable he spends most of the day wailing with a clammy snot-smeared face. This might be one of the first times we've played a  family game of pass the germy parcel, but I doubt it'll be our last.

And, staying with the theme of all things yuck, TalkMum asked me to write a post for them for their conception month. It was published this week and you can find it here. I know, I know. Most people want to read about how someone they know conceived their child like they want to set fire to their own arm. But, really, it's not that grim or detailed and I'm hopeful that it won't make you want to puke up your pancreas. Also, it features Starbucks and a cat.