Well, I think I got an idea now. The past 10 days were insane, crazier then usual. My 3 kids got sick and once they started to feel a bit better I got sick myself. It was a stomach bug. A very nasty virus that causes constant diarrhoea and vomiting and poses a real danger for dehydration. We had children puking in stereo. One in our bathroom and the other all over his bed. We changed bed linens every night, and pillows and blankets. This was the week that my husband was actually grateful that I'm addicted to buying textile, luckily we had enough sheets and blankets. I buy a lot of blankets, its one of those disorders that comes out of being a descendant of European Jews: you should always be prepared to be cast outside to the snow. Anyway, the kids were miserable, and once the Doctor declared it was a virus - in other words: "There's nothing I can do" we just had to wait it out. The washing machine was working constantly. I think its fair to say that this week wasn't a very "green" one in our house. Lots of detergent, fabric softener and soap got spilled and the most rigorous washing plans were applied using lots of hot waters.
For the first day of the working week both my husband and I stayed home to take care of the sick bunch and to wash the carpet occasionally. I stayed home with the bunch for a couple of days more after. Since they got sick at the weekend, I spent almost a week in my pyjamas. It made me feel depressed and cranky as if I'm doomed to folding pants and duvet covers for all eternity.
Once they got better and I thought " oh what fun going back to work again!", I got the virus and started to crumple with stomach aches. My kids were very considerate as usual : fighting and screaming. My young one howled for 10 whole minutes when I refused to give him more candy. The virus hit me hard and left my husband as the nurse of the house. The best thing about tummy bugs is that you can't eat. I lost 2.5 kg in 5 days. That actually made me very happy though pale.
Things are back to normal in our house hold. I got back to work at the lab (microbiology lab of all places) , my husband is no longer Florence Nightingale and the kids got back to school and the nursery. I made a promise to myself that if I'll ever have an urge to have a fourth child I should remember this week. Drowning in piles of smelly laundry and scents of vomit and shit drifting around the house. That is why I'm getting myself a tattoo of a washing machine. Original don't you think?