#Life With Three - March {Holidays Gone Bad}

This month has been a reasonably good month considering the last week was a bit of a disaster. If you saw my Instagram post explaining the details of our disastrous holiday you can commiserate with me. If you haven't heard then let me go into detail. We had a week away at Caloundra booked for early February just after Little Miss A was born back in October. This was going to be our first holiday of a family of three and we decided to book a house instead of using our caravan since Little Miss A was only going to be 5 months old. I didn't feel like juggling a baby in a van at this young age. Call me precious but that's just where I was at.

J.D just so happened to break his arm the week before we were meant to go away back in early February. We had to forfeit our $200 deposit and then rebook for late March so that his arm would be healed and he would be able to enjoy the pool that was at the house. It would have been miserable for him if we went on holidays with his newly broken arm and he couldn't swim in the pool or the beach. Anyway, so he got his cast of two weeks before we had to go away and everything had healed nicely. We all got awful colds 10 days before we were meant to go away but thankfully everyone recovered quickly, and we were all fighting fit on the day we were leaving. I wiped my brow in relief thinking we had dodged being sick while away on holidays.

I had spent the better part of a week trying to pack with three kids underfoot, and I still managed to forget important things like nappies for Miss H and cot sheets for Little Miss A. Baby brain I tell you. We arrived at our holiday house early Saturday afternoon with a sun shining down on us and a beautiful sea breeze. We unpacked, and the kids were straight into the pool after hubby managed to find his togs in the mountains of luggage. Gosh, I can't begin to tell you how much stuff you have to bring for three kids and that was packing very minimalistic. After a dip, we hopped on our bikes and pedalled off to have a walk on the beach. The location of the house was midway up a very steep hill and let me tell you my thighs got a good work out. I realised just how unfit I was. The afternoon was perfect with the sound of crashing waves, the slight heat from the sun and the kids frolicking in the sand and water as it lapped at their toes. My heart did a little sigh of contentment. This is what I had been waiting for so many months. Time to dig my toes in the sand and just be.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. In the early hours of Sunday morning, I woke to Miss H crying. I stumbled half asleep into her bedroom expecting her to need some comfort for being in a strange bedroom but found her with piles of vomit in her bed. My heart sank. I cleaned her up (it was all in her hair) and her bed as best as I could and put a few towels down (I had no spare sheets) for her to sleep on. I then went in search of a bucket which I thankfully found and placed it beside her bed. I wasn't in bed for more than 10 minutes when the crying began again, and so I bolted into her room to try and catch another round of vomit. I was a minute too late and had to strip her bed again and add it to the pile of washing that was steadily growing. This repeated itself about another few times before she fell into an exhausted sleep. I eventually got to sleep in the early hours of the morning and woke up dreading what the day would bring. Was everyone going to get sick now? What was going to become of my holiday? You see we have a really bad track record in our family of vomiting bugs going through the entire family. This happened at Christmas 2015, a week after Little Miss A was born and unfortunately The Beach Holiday of 2017.

As the week went on, I watched my holiday slowly go down the toilet - literally and figuratively. Every day I was either dealing with a kid who was vomiting or had diarrhoea. It slowly went from Miss H to Little Miss A and poor J.D got it the last few days of our holiday. Thankfully hubby and I didn't get sick because I don't know how I would have gone if I also had my head in the toilet.

We tried to carry on as best we could try to salvage something from our holiday, but most days we sat in the holiday house with the cartoons on for the kids with hubby and I staring mournfully at each other wondering what black cat we had killed for this misery to be bestowed upon us. To top the fun and games off, we had been tracking the remnants of cyclone Debbie that was making its way towards us earlier in the week. It hit where we were staying on late Wednesday evening, and it rained and poured and blew up a gust of a good day before moving on. We decided to throw in the towel a day early and packed up and headed home to our own beds.

I think I have mourned this holiday all week because I had pinned so much on it in my mind. When you are a stay at home mum dealing with kids all day the idea of a change of scenery is something like a dream come true.  I know we will be able to laugh at the calamity that it was in time but for now, I am having a bit of a pity party over having missed out on some sun, sand and surf and instead got spews, poos.



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