It was obviously stupid of me to think that I could get away with just the one nasty upper respiratory infection this winter, especially in Country Town where apparently RI's are the disease de jour. C thinks it has something to do with all the chemicals that get sprayed onto various crops around the place. Yay. I think about all those crisp sunny wintry days when I walked into town pushing Tricky in the stroller and lustily breathing in lungfuls of bracing country air.
At least in Sydney you expect it to be horribly polluted and chest infection inducing.
And of course this means that we've all got the lurgy, parents, filmmakers (including the ones living with their 3yr old in a caravan in our backyard). Welcome to the House of Phlegm.
(*pauses blogging a moment to cough and hack loudly*)
(*drops tissue on table*)
(*notes heavy "thunk" sound*)
(*feels mildly disgusted*)
The doctor is very nice and sensible and doesn't prescribe anything at all except more of what I'm doing which is mostly breastfeeding on demand and lots of cuddles.
Which makes a nice change from the last doctor we saw here who prescribed antibiotics and steroids and then gave me a fistful of repeat prescriptions. "I tend to overprescribe," he muttered as he did so. Um, yes. Quite.
A few days later we've still got the snot and the coughing but the happy little bubba boy is back to business. And the business is learning to walk. He's microseconds away, I'm absolutely sure of it, all the standing and the balancing and yesterday we both saw him take a step.
In less than a week he will be one year old.
When I think about where I was a year ago
And then the year before that...
It's enough to make me reach for the tissues again, but this time it's not about the snot.