Mothers Day

Well, it was supposed to be a nice relaxing day. We were going to introduce Joseph to some of the nice local countryside, go for a picnic if the weather was nice enough.
The day before we were driving to Rugby and back to see my little nephew Sean, who had just turned one. Most of the family were staying over till the Sunday, but I had no intention of spending my first ever mothers day on the motorway, so we drove up and back in one day. This was going to prove tough as some kind person (sarcasm) had infected Andy with a really horrible head cold and I had caught it too. When we got to Rugby we found out that almost all the family were ill, mostly with colds. Even little Sean himself was rather under the weather with a suspected ear infection. I spent all of Saturday morning feeling a little nauseous, I presumed it was an effect of all the various decongestants I had been taking and didn't give it a second thought.
The Italian restaurant we went to was very nice, and for a while I didn't feel sick, but it returned in the afternoon along with some unpleasant cramps. We left a little earlier than planned, but Joseph was getting grumpy and I was feeling really quite tired.
Not staying over was the right call, but not for the reasons initially intended. By the late evening it was clear I was very unwell, but not with a cold. I spend all of the night and most of the morning running back and forth to the loo, getting more and more depressed. This was not how I wanted to spend my first ever mothers day, unable to actually spend any time with my child in case I infected him.
Thankfully, Andy bought me some medication which kicked in to stop the worst of it, but I still had cramps and I still felt quite sick. My lovely mothers day dinner became two slices of dry toast, the only solids I managed all day and even that felt a little iffy.
After a nice hot shower, I felt a little more human and decided to give Joseph his last bottle of the day. He was tired and pretty much fell asleep by halfway through. Knowing that a small feed would probably result in him waking us up overnight, we tried various ways of waking him up. My nasty cough, a leftover from the cold, helped a little, but was a temporary measure.
When I was pregnant, I had noticed that certain pieces of rock music would get him going. Specifically, Motorhead's "The Ace of Spades" got to him so much that when it came on the radio as I was driving home from work, I nearly had to pull over. We played it to him, but it had no effect. Neither did Status Quo, Slade or even Iron Maiden. I had hoped the sheer awfulness of the last might annoy him into wakefulness, but no. This meant we had to move things up a gear so we tried Buggles "Video Killed the Radio Star", but not a peep. In desperation we even listened to M "Pop Muzik", but he didn't even react to that! Realising that we were in a desperate situation, we reached for that one pop track that should really be kept in a hermetically sealed box and covered in warning tape. It's quite new and really a new low for the music business.
Yes, that's right, Rebecca Black. Truly the worst song ever written or performed, with lyrics even Tim Rice would wince at. I have no idea if the girl can actually sing or not, there's so much auto-tune on her voice she sounds like the vocal equivalent of those processed cheese squares.
I kid you not, literally the moment the track started, Josephs eyes shot open, his mouth opened wide and he started crying. I put the bottle back in his mouth and he drank the lot without a pause. I promised him that if he took his bottle like a good boy every evening, he wouldn't have to listen to Rebecca Black ever again. Andy took him to bed and he went out like a light. I only hope we haven't traumatised the poor boy.
Next weekend we're going to pretend it's mothers day and try again with the picnic and walk.