My Easter Treat – Mastitis

What did I wake up to on Easter Morning? Not piles of Easter Eggs, oh no – I woke up to a raging breast infection. Sad story. I guess, having breast fed three children over 4-and-a-half-years, it was bound to happen eventually. And while I understand people who said to me, “you have only just gotten one now? Well done, you!” – when I am feeling like I might actually be dying, those comments tend to grate a little deep in me.

Mastitis is an infection of the breast, caused by blocked milk ducts. For mild cases it can be relieved by feeding and feeding and feeding and feeding from the infected side, and drinking loads and loads of water. But, see your doctor for more severe cases because you may need antibiotics. I had fever, chills, vomiting and the distinctive red marks on my breast. Oh, and I felt like I was dying. Did I mention that?

As mentioned prior, we had an Easter Egg hunt planned for lunch time. I decided to go ahead with it despite the fact that, at one point, I was literally crying in my 4-year-old’s lap – the mere suggestion that we not have her friends over for an egg hunt had Princesses entire body crumpling with despair. She had spent the morning decorating her Easter baskets and I didn’t have the heart to break her heart. So, on with the hunt – I hid the eggs and then curled up in a blanket until my friends arrived.

The hunt went on as planned and the kids had a blast – I hid the eggs all through our playroom (I’m pretty sure the kids have been back in today and found more eggs in there!). By all accounts all the kids had a great time, despite my being unwell, which is great. I’m glad we went forward with it.



(this is how we made our Easter Baskets – I added a handle by cutting a strip of paper and sellotaping it to the top)

And so, Easter Sunday was, for me, spent lying on the floor, having baths to warm my body up, sleeping, sitting in the doctors waiting room (chatting to a nurse who felt the need to tell me everything about her children), sleeping and lying on the floor. We gave the kids their special eggs in the evening when I was out of bed, and, as their eggs came with a torch each, it was nice watching them running around screaming in the dark with their torches for a while before crashing out in bed, fast asleep and dreaming of chocolate.

It’s the next day now and I’m feeling better, though not 100%. It’s hard work looking after kids when you are loathe to be touched by anyone. My house looks like a tornado has swept through it, and the kids have a bit of cabin fever, plus that convalescence that comes after Mummy has been sick. Almost a punishment for daring to spend a day ignoring them (besides, no one likes to hear their Mum being sick). Today will be a day of slow cleaning, quiet playing and .. ah, who am I kidding? It’ll be as messy and loud as usual. Because, children.





Happy Easter!

Ah, Easter. Such a fun time of year. Well, it was when I was a kid. As an adult? Still fun, but with far more to think about!

I mean, you have the meaning of Easter – Jesus dying on the cross and his resurrection three days later. We don’t go to church but we, Mr T and I, definitely consider ourselves to be Christian. And, whether or not you believe in the Bible, I truly believe that it is such a valuable tool to teach kids, there are a lot of life lessons in those stories, and besides – let them decide when they are old enough, I say. But I digress – we don’t want our kids to think that Easter Eggs are the Be All and End All of Easter, we wanted them to at least have a fair idea of the real Easter story. But,  explaining it to a 4 year old? More complicated than it was last year when she was three, that’s for sure.
“So, he dies? On a cross? Did it hurt him? Was he naughty? Was his Mum sad? I bet his Mum was sad”

“And then he came alive???? Wow. Why didn’t Nana come alive? If I was Jesus I would make Nana come alive. And Millie [the wild mouse we found that died 12 hours later] too, I would make her be alive. I like chocolate”.

I think next year, I might try to find a children’s book that explains it better than I do.

And then you have, the Easter eggs. Last year, we had our (turning out to be annual) Easter egg hunt. My Mum came and brought with her, my niece and a bag of eggs. I provided my two children (BabyGirl was still in-ma-belly) and a bag of eggs. My friend and sister came, bringing with them a combined three children and a bag of eggs. Thus we had, three “big” kids, three “little” kids and a whole lot o’ eggs. The hunt went a bit like this – each “big” kid had their own colour to look for. Each “little” kid just went crazy. And by “went crazy” I mean, BoyChild found one egg, giggled with glee and sat down to eat it, foil and all. Little Kid #2 ate two eggs and started his own running race, around and around and around and around and around … with Little Kid #3 in hot pursuit. Leaving heaps and heaps of eggs for the three big kids. When we, the parents, realised just how many eggs each big kid had, we panicked. No way did any of us want our kids to have, quite literally, 30+ easter eggs each. So we started swapping them amongst the baskets. Here, Big Kid #1, have a few from Big Kid #2’s basket. No, I insist. Oh, thanks, Big Kid #3, but let’s give them to .. oh .. wait, his basket is full. Dag-nammit! Result? Too much sugar, too much everything. Determined for that not to happen this year, I only bought them one egg each, and I deliberately selected something that comes with more “thing” than “egg”. I got these awesome eggs and torches for the bigger two, and a soft bunny rabbit for BabyGirl. And then, I bought a bag of eggs for the hunt. I’ve invited friends and family once more but insisted that no one need bring more eggs, one bag is plenty. There is a fine line between easter fun, and chocolate gorging. That hunt last year? I cleaned out my cupboard literally months later and I found a pile of eggs that I had hidden from Princess. From myself too, it seems. And no one wants to eat cheap chocolate that has suspiciously turned white.

I popped in to a store today to get something non-Easter-related and I couldn’t believe the queues out the door. People grabbing Easter eggs like it was the Zombie Apocalypse and the only way to ward off zombies was to lure them with Dora the Explorer eggs. I mean, it was insane. BoyChild merely reached for an egg on a shelf and his hand was battered away by a man (a grown MAN!) who absolutely NEEDED that egg for his child. BoyChild is three years old! I helped a poor woman who was holding so many eggs that she had dropped a packet and, rather than risk dropping her pile to the masses, she was kicking the packet across the floor, all the way to the check out, she said. I left at that point. I didn’t need anything that bad. I’m glad I bought our eggs last week when it was just me and a lovely couple looking for something nice for their grandson.

Which leaves me here, the night before Easter Sunday. The kids are asleep, Princess has painstakingly crafted Easter baskets for her friends, and I’m deciding whether to hide the eggs tonight or risk doing it in the morning. The rain swayed me, I shall sneak out tomorrow and hope they don’t see me, lest they discover the Easter Bunny, like Santa and the Tooth Fairy, is actually a crafty Mum and Dad.