Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 946 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Trish tried again with my ankle and it did ease significantly, so the next day, it was uncomfortable rather than painful so I was able to take the girls to school as usual, and I’d decided that any running around could be done by Julie and I would sit and rest my ankle.

Of course life never quite works out as you plan and I found myself being called back to the school to collect Livvie, who seemed to have some sort of tummy bug. I brought her home and put her to bed with a glass of water and a bucket.

Then they sent for me to collect Trish, so I took Mima as well–sure enough, they were both ill by tea time. The two boys complained of not feeling like much dinner and they were soon added to the sick list. Then Tom and Julie went down with it and Puddin’–it seemed, only Stella and I were staying afloat in this rapidly sinking ship.

The next morning, Stella was sick and I wondered when my turn would come. It wasn’t long–I’d just finished making cups of Bovril for everyone–no one was eating solid food, and I felt quite funny–light headed and dizzy. Next minute I had to run to the loo and examined my breakfast. How can there be carrots in my breakfast? I answered the question with another instalment of reverse breakfast.

Livvie and Trish came to see where their drinks were and found me on my knees in the cloakroom, upchucking again.

Somehow they helped me up to my bed–passed on one of their buckets, a glass of water and I slept–until I was sick again. I learned afterwards that they distributed the Bovril to the rest of the household.

I was confined to bed for about twenty four hours, and felt groggy when Dr Julie let me up to have a hot drink. It was a cuppa soup, one of those packet things which normally taste too salty–but today, it tasted, well not quite like nectar, but it went down very well.

The rest of the week was very tedious, it was Trish’s birthday and due to my turn in the sick bay, it was rather low key. Normally, I’d have baked her a cake and we’d have had a little party for her. She was now officially six, going on twenty six, so I got her a digital camera. That had been ordered online and had been here for a couple of weeks. Livvie’s is in April so I hope I’m in better form by then.

The rest of the house gave her clothes and books, which she’d asked for or software for her computer. She’s got one of these interactive ones about the human body, which Stella bought her at great expense, which she thoroughly enjoys playing with–the software not bodies–not just yet. Livvie gave her some horrible pet computer game thing, which means she has to keep dealing with an errant cat which walks all over her computer when she’s trying to do something else. If they put it near mine–I’ve threatened to lock them in the garage for a month.

That wretched bug took all the energy out of me, Puddy was quite unwell with it too. Thankfully we managed to rehydrate her, and I suspect Trish might have spent some of her time cuddling her too, to re-energise her.

On Friday, the girls finished school, they’d only gone back on Thursday, by which time half of the school had gone down with it. I took Julie shopping with me–I’d made Trish a birthday cake and she’d helped me ice it–but it wasn’t up to my normal standard, although Trish seemed happy with it.

I’d needed Julie to help me shopping because I felt so tired all the time. I left Stella to organise her own lunch–Julie and I had ours at the supermarket restaurant which was adequate–I wasn’t that hungry if the truth was told. I ate most of my jacket potato–simply happy that I hadn’t had to cook or clear up afterwards. Instead of twenty six, I felt more like ninety six.

Simon was coming home at the weekend–thankfully he’d missed the bug, and I was hoping he’d be able to give me a hand to get the party set up, as Julie would be distracted by Leon, who was supposed to be putting in some more veg for Tom.

Saturday arrived–Leon didn’t, he had the bug or so he said. I told him that I wasn’t prepared to pay if he didn’t come to work, which he accepted. His bad back had cost me a few weeks ago. He did sound rough, so I let him go back to his bed, hoping his mother didn’t get it.

Everyone mucked in for the party: Simon did the last minute shopping for food; the boys helped Julie clean and tidy up; Stella made up goody-bags for all the kids, whilst the girls and I did the food.

The party started at three, so most of the ten girls invited had arrived by a quarter to and the mayhem commenced. Simon was games master and looked after the musical chairs, Simon says, pass the parcel, pin the tail on the donkey.

Julie helped me with the food and generally keeping the obnoxious littleangels from hurting themselves. Billy was using Simon’s camcorder to make a record for Trish, and Danny was going to be the DJ in a short disco we’d hold in the largest of the garages. Tom had strung up some old Christmas tree lights and we’d hired a CD deck and amplifier. Danny was really looking forward to his role, which was twenty minutes after we’d filled the girls up with sausage rolls, crisps, fizzy drinks and ice cream and jelly.

It was astonishing that none of them were sick, bouncing around after eating, but they weren’t and they all said they enjoyed it. The parents arrived about six to collect their offspring and the goody-bag–a collection of sweets, a girly pen, a hair band and a tiny tube of moisturiser. They all got the same, it was all chosen by Trish and Livvie as something they’d enjoy having.

For a joke we gave the same bags to the two boys and Trish took pictures as they examined the contents and pulled faces. Then we gave them a separate bag each with boy things in–a Ferrari keyring, some boy’s deodorant and some sweeties. They seemed quite happy with it.

At half past seven, I had some pizzas delivered and the rest of them tucked in–how can they eat something that looks like dried vomit? I had some of the left over rolls from the party and they were enough for me.

It took a while to unwind the kids so I did a reading for all of them together. A chapter or two from Maddy Bell’s Gaby books, which featured a bike race as well as some of her characteristic humour. It calmed them down a bit and they eventually went to bed.

As the girls were about to go to bed, Trish turned around and said, “Thank you, Mummy and Daddy, Gramps, Auntie Stella, Danny, Billy and Liv and Meems–for the best party ever. All my friends enjoyed it. Can we do it again next year?”

“I don’t know, Trish–they’re jolly hard work as well as expensive,” I replied.

“Does that mean I can’t have one, then, Mummy?” asked Livvie.

“Sweetheart, we agreed that we’d take a couple of your friends to Legoland at Windsor. I’ve got that all organised including the coach to take us.”

“Oh goody,” chirped Simon, “I’ve always wanted to have a look round there.”

The boys smiled, we agreed to take them to Beaulieu to the National Motor Museum, and as their birthdays were very close, they could take a couple of friends each. All in all these birthday celebrations were getting expensive. However, I had told them they would get some form of party this year but not next–it was getting too expensive.

Mima’s birthday, we’d agreed to take a couple of her friends to the hotel at Southsea, which was what she’d asked for. They could play in the leisure facilities and then have a light meal before coming home. For this, we agreed we’d pay the cost to the hotel, so it was a significant discount, but not free like when we use it for our own pleasure. The fact that she’d nearly drowned there didn’t seem to worry her, but had encouraged me to make sure all of them could swim enough to get out of trouble.

Sometimes I was surprised that a house this size didn’t have a swimming pool, and when I asked Tom about it, he was quite dismissive–‘Whit fa? It’s not good fa the environment, or ma pocket–an’ there’s a perfectly guid swimming bath doon the road.’

I suppose that said it all and it did mean that I wasn’t always worried about one of them falling in. It was bad enough worrying about them out on their bikes–every time one of them came in with lumps and bumps somewhere. Still, they seemed to enjoy themselves and you can’t protect them from everything without de-skilling them. We learn how to deal with problems by encountering them, over protective parents stop this happening.