The week has been character-building thus far.
I'm now fine; and the Brit isn't hanging his head over a Turkish toilet.
Sebastian however, has gone from 'food poisoning' to a full-on bug. He's caught something from a little critter at nursery, and now they won't let him in.
This is what they do. They kick babies out until "their pooh is of reasonable consistency."
Which means I am off work for the rest of the week, feverishly playing mummy while navigating through a massive wad of stuff I have to get before the weekend workwise.
I can juggle this once a week on Fridays, as it's all planned and consistent. For three days? Fuck me. Let's put it this way, I didn't get out of my pyajamas yesterday, and I didn't wash my face. I took a video conference call wearing my PJs and hoped that the collar would make the person on the other end believe it was an actual shirt.
Gotta go. He's poohing/crying/my inbox is pinging me/Jesus please can my husband come back from Turkey in this lifetime/send cake.
PS: He's also decided to start crawling in the last 24 hours. I was getting worried, as most babies his age are all already doing it. This is a blessing, relief and curse. He's already attacked my low lying Kate Spade handbag and gnawed on my Mac cord.