First, Silver Bullet took the bacteria-laden-baton from the kids and spent the entire day and night on the eve of 12.12.12 hugging the toilet bowl puking his guts out. Not sure sort of bug Silver Bullet had caught, but it was so bad that he was vomiting blood. Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep that night (thankfully the kids were out like a light!), and we both woke up that morning looking worse for wear.

Silver Bullet was pretty much out of commission. And, it is days like this that made me realised how useless I am with my non-existent driving skills. It is days like this that I wish I had learnt how to drive to continue to   get things going. No time for regrets (I keep telling myself I need to learn how to drive one of these days) – as, granted, things still need to be done, Spud still needs to be sent to school and it is imperative that someone needs to drive Silver Bullet  to the hospital. There just was no way in hell I was going to let him go on his own in the state he was in.

So it was a crazy busy day.  I scrambled along before the crack of dawn to get myself ready, get the kids showered and dressed (while making sure that Silver Bullet was not going to lift a finger ), prepared their first meal of the day, bolted through the front door to send Spud to school, accompanied Silver Bullet to the hospital, came back home to drop him off and picked a pair of concert tickets to be re-sold, then dropped it off to the buyer, rushed to the office, attended several meetings, did some work, left the office slightly earlier to pick up some Christmas gifts for the upcoming Christmas exchange in the office,  rushed home to check if everyone are still breathing, cooked, put the kids to bed, had some dinner and continue to do some urgent work before we hit the sack.

And oh. The tickets I mentioned about earlier was actually for a pair of tickets we bought circa a month ago when we found out that Sting was performing live in Bangkok on 12.12.12. Even though Silver Bullet thought I should go without him, I figured, it would be impossible for me to enjoy myself knowing that my other half was suffering in misery at home, sick as a dog. We both were quite bummed, and looking at how miserable Silver Bullet was, we had to give the concert a miss (with much regret). At least we managed to get the tickets sold, and that we someone else was enjoying the musical genius on our behalf.

On our part, we could only hope that there will be another time, and another place to watch Sting live

As it turned out, 12.12.12 was more eventful as than I could ever anticipated it to be.

From being extremely busy and relentless days at work with no room to breathe, to not being able to come home on time to put my kids in bed because I could only leave the office  at 9pm on a Friday evening, to realizing that I had yet again lose my ATM card for the 2^nd time in  2 weeks and then riling myself up at 10pm trying to get the card suspended because I cannot remember when was the last time I had used it, only to be put on hold for 10 minutes listening to Thai music in an automated answering service to sneezing my head off…

When my head finally hit the pillow on Friday night at 11pm, I could not have been more relieved.

But Murphy had other plans for our Saturday.  The madness began at the break of dawn – our sleep rudely interrupted by a wandering, energetic toddler who was ready to start her day. Her cheerfulness was soon replaced by whines, cries and tantrums as she complained of stomachache. She then threw up all of her breakfast as soon as she finished her bowl of cereal, and with all the madness happening (Squirt was also pretty cranky this morning), we almost could not make it to the kids’ swimming lessons in time.

When we got to the pool, we soon realised that we forgot to bring Squirt’s pumped milk which we already prepared. A big problem there, considering that Squirt had not fed very well in the morning AND that he doesn’t really want to take the breast anymore. The only consolation was that I brought my pump along and I was able to squeeze a little of pump time to make Squirt’s food while he was in the pool with his Papa and I got help from a fellow parent-friend to mind Spud.

Spud also threw up in the midst of her swimming lesson and continued complaining about her stomach from then on. When she fell asleep in the car on our way to do some groceries (during the day!), it was a definite sign that Spud was a little under the weather.  We did not think that she had it bad, and so continued with our plans to do our usual lunch and grocery shopping.  I decided that I was going to be the one to be wearing her in the wrap.

Bad mistake.

While waiting for our coffee, Spud felt sick and before I knew it, she was throwing up on me. 5.consecutive.relentless.times. I could feel the warm liquid and the remnants of soggy Pepperidge fish crackers splattering on my chest and trickling down INSIDE my shirt and my stomach. Needless to say, I was soaked with puke… Spud had change of clothes and I didn’t.  I smelt like rotten feet and looking fantastically fabulous covered in my daughter’s puke right at the entrance of a supermarket while waiting for coffee. The wrap I had on me was the only thing that had prevented her puke from going everywhere. I was beyond words. And at the state that I was in, I might as well laugh about it – so Silver Bullet took a picture, grab our coffee and then we hurried home.

Meantime, Silver Bullet had his share of sour puke courtesy of Squirt – which certainly was not as bad as a toddler’s puke.

I had thought Murphy should have been satisfied by the wonderful work she cut out for us. But we should have known better, for soon after when we got home, Silver Bullet discovered that one of the cats have actually shat in our room. On.our.bed. And the deed was cleverly covered up with our crumpled duvet cover.

Perfect.More unnecessary work.

The day continued to be a little rough for the rest of the day with 2 cranky and whiney kids. We were knackered, but I guess, we have come to a stage where we could handle them a little better as we know what to expect.

We don’t expect the night to be easy, but we both couldn’t be happier when 6pm arrived; for when it comes to days like this when the kids get a little under the weather, both Silver Bullet and I strongly advocate earlier bedtime.

7pm is bliss. We can finally put our feet up in peace when we are done with the chores that needed our attention. One of which included a laundry chore of cleaning up putrid vomit from the day’s event.

I have said it once and I will say it again – there is no dignity left when you are a mother.