When housework hits the bottom of the list

There are few things that have happened in my life that have made me stop and rethink my priorities. Most of the time, like the rest of the population we just get on with day to day stuff, managing the daily tasks, crossing jobs off the ever increasing list, putting gentle pressure on ourselves to make sure the house is clean in case of unexpected guests, the car tidy in case you off an impulsive lift, the front door area is swept and tidy for any passer by, the garden is kept trim for neighbours who can see into it, the child is clean when you step out the front door (and there are spare clothes in the bag just in case he needs a change of clothes) etc etc etc. We put these pressures on ourselves to make sure we are acceptable to our peers and we haven't let our parents down. Then something happens to shake your whole world and you stop and think. During June we have had some fantastic weather. In fact I will be so bold as to quote the weather forecasters and say we have had a delightful heatwave. (Delightful if you don't have to work too hard or travel on public transport that is!) During the beginning of the heatwave our little man was a bit 'off colour'. Being a happy boy by nature, when he is ill he is just a little less cheerful over longer periods. When teething he behaves in a similar way. So on this occasion, I was aware he was not himself and the way he kept putting his fingers in his mouth I first thought that he was teething again. Then he got a high temperature. Now I am one of those parents that worries but really doesn't like to make too much fuss and waste professionals time. As his temperature rose to 39.7 C I knew that it was not good. So I did what I thought best and got PM to phone NHS Direct. We were told to just keep him as cool as we could and keep using the calpol but not to damped him down as recent research showed that if cooled to fast from the outside the body tries to raise the temperature again. About 3am his temperature went back down and I got a couple of hours sleep. Now this worried me as it was not the usual way this teething went so I was aware something else was wrong but had no idea. The next day he was in good spirits again but still not himself. We decided to spend the day outside in the shade of trees where it was coolest. In the afternoon, again, his temperature shot up. This time it went to 40.4 C. Oh so very bad!!!! The poor little man was drowsy and grizzly and so out of sorts. Then about 11:30pm he did what I had feared the most, he started to fit. No matter how many times to hear about seizures, see or assist with them, nothing will ever prepare you for when it happens to your baby. Of course, blind panic sets in and the first thing you do is reach for the phone and call for an ambulance while totally random thoughts about 'how glad I am I live in England and not some far flung place without the NHS for back-up' cross your mind. The next thing you are in the back of an ambulance, then in A&E and then in the children's ward. All the time being asked dozens of questions while you watch as your baby is given rectal paracetamol and diazipam resulting in him being totally limp with no body control, in essence physically like a new born. Distressing is one word to describe it all but also awe and wonder that I live in a country and county where we have an excellent local hospital with efficient staff. It is only as everything settles down and you realise the time is about 3am, you have had nothing to eat of drink since lunchtime and you are in a hospital for the night with no bra on under your tee-shirt, wearing very short denim shorts (you only ever wear them round the house, they are not for public display) and your feet are shod in your rather pink slippers! By the end of the next day the little man was over his temperature and allowed home with the verdict being he had viral tonsillitis. He was still very poorly but now as a result of the medication he had been given. If you have never heard of diazipam it is a muscle relaxant. The poor little fellow was so used to being able to dash around the floor on all fours that when he felt a bit better by mid morning he was keen to go down and explore. He looked like Bambi taking his first steps, very wobbly and then falling over. This experience knocked his confidence terribly and I had a very clingy 'hip-limpet for a whole week as we built him up again. So during that next week, the heatwave continued and the house became dirtier and untidier. All that mattered to me was I had a happy boy. As he regained his confidence and became less clingy, all that mattered to me was I had a happy boy. Suddenly, for the first time since my teen years, I couldn't care less about what anyone thought of the state of my house. All that mattered was my little man. He is fine now and it is all a distant memory but the one thing that remains is the housework can always wait.