Got the Holiday Bug?

I guess we've all been there...

We're in the middle of an amazing holiday with extended family at The Old Mill in Norfolk (check out their 5 star reviews on Tripadvisor). The sun is shining, the pool is heated, the Prosecco is flowing and the BBQ has been fired up, when all of a sudden I start to feel decidedly dodgy. Assuming I'd had a little too much sun (in England?! During half term?!) I went for a lie down. Later that evening I spent a considerable amount of time attached to the loo whilst simultaneously vomiting into a Buzz Lightyear potty. A feat I am still incredibly proud of.

Turns out it wasn't sun, anxiety or too much Prosecco but a bug which was slowly working its way through the Crosby clan. Not a great way to end a holiday but one must keep calm and carry on. 

Thankfully the effects were short-lived and I awoke feeling wiped out but capable of making the 150 mile journey back to Grandma's house. 

Then disaster struck!  The 3 year old had thrown up. 

Granny sprung into action like a cleaning ninja! Stripping the 3 year old, disinfecting the floor, rinsing the clothes. I could only step back and marvel whilst trying to hold onto the now severely depleted contents of my stomach. 

The 3 year old took it all in his stride and carried on as if nothing had happened. Making the most of those last few moments with his cousins. 

Crisis over...Or not.

Half an hour into the journey I was roused from an attempted nap by strange sounds coming from the back seat. The 3 year old had thrown up. And was continuing to throw up. All over himself, the car seat, the portable DVD player and the BRAND NEW CAR! The brand new, shiny, sparkling, company car which had been on order for months and was delivered the day before we were due to go on holiday.

Hubby tested out the new brakes and pulled into the nearest available spot. A spot which just happened to be the only driveway for miles around and, as per the law of sod, approximately 30 seconds later after jumping out of the car to attempt the clean up the owners of said driveway arrived home. After causing a minor traffic jam the owners gave up and parked on the grass verge. I mouthed a rather pathetic 'sorry' and carried on with the task at hand.

Obviously, we had no idea where anything was having just piled the bags into the bag for the journey home. The poor 3 year old ended up half naked on the side of the road, standing on his Batman coat in bare feet. 

Ten minutes later, having done the best we could with the roll of toilet paper we found randomly stuffed into a bag, we were on our way. Not wanting to spread the bug to the other half of the family the journey to Grandma's was abandoned and we headed home.

The journey took 7 hours. The same amount of time it had taken Grandma to fly from New York to Manchester that morning. During those 7 hours we experienced monsoon like conditions as we crossed the Pennines, two more vomiting sessions from the 3 year old (all skilfully caught in the now indispensable Buzz Lightyear potty) and a queue of traffic on the Woodhead Pass to rival anything the M25 can throw at you.

But finally we were home. Travel weary we emptied the car and slumped onto the sofa. An hour or so passed when hubby came downstairs and put his arms around me. "Now I don't want you to get upset...but the cat's been sick. Behind the bedroom door."

FFS...