After a week or so of studying in most available moments, my brain was to my notes what one magnet is to another magnet of the same polarity. I therefore decided last night to prioritise sleep over cramming, and jumped into bed at 10pm. Approximately 2.5 minutes later, Moses (who had taken forE.V.E.R to drift off earlier) started whimpering, so I asked him what was up and he said he needed water; I got him some water, told him to go back to sleep, and jumped back into bed. Not long after that he started whimpering again, and I informed him sternly that if he couldn’t sleep he had to lie there quietly while he tried, because everyone else needed sleep and we didn’t want to be disturbed (he sleeps in our room). He responded by throwing up.
This is the third time Mo’s vomited in his life so far, and the first time it’s continued for a bit rather than just being a one-off type thing. Anyway, I won’t bang on about it except to say that as it turns out, I do not cope well with vomit or vomiting people, even if it’s my own child (I’d been hoping that if I ever found myself in a position of having to care for a repeatedly-spewing child that some maternal thing would kick in and override my gag reflex, but no. Let the record show that that did not happen). Fortunately it turns out that Alan’s really good with vomiting people! So hurrah for Team Morrow. Next time I’ll know my job is to run around grabbing towels and remaking the bed and gagging and wringing my hands and feeling useless, because Alan has the soothing and bucket-emptying and cuddling and sheet-washing covered. This is good to know.
Hazel vomited this morning, only once. I had a feeling she might, because Alan had dressed her in a light woollen jumper that had finally made it back into her wardrobe after around 4 months of waiting to be washed (I’ll aim to have it clean and dry again by next winter). Alan thinks Hazel’s brief spew is unrelated to Mo’s and completely coincidental. I think not, even though I’ve no idea what the actual cause was. We’ve agreed to disagree.
My exam is done! The last time I did an exam was at the end of 2012 (one day before finding out I was pregnant with Hazel, in fact). After that one, I lay down my pen when time was up and thought to myself, “I TOTALLY SMASHED THAT EXAM.” This morning when time was up I lay down my pen and thought to myself, “I think I’ve passed?”
For the rest of the day post-exam I celebrated by having lunch and a cinnamon scroll at the park with Alan, Mo and Hazel, going to the library and then playing soccer at another park with Mo, then heading to the post office to wait around at the post box for the guy to come and empty it because I wasn’t sure if I’d sealed the envelope shut before dropping my exam into it earlier (you may be thinking, how much of what she studied could she have possibly remembered if she couldn’t even say, 3 minutes after putting her exam papers into an envelope and posting it, whether or not she’d sealed that envelope? and I’d reply to you, THAT IS A VERY GOOD QUESTION)(It turns out I had sealed the envelope, if that makes you feel better). We finished off the day by doing blind honey tests, in which we each tasted the two different honeys in our pantry to see if there really was a difference between the cheap one and the expensive one (Alan: There’s no difference except for the price. Me: There IS a difference, and I will prove it to you). I won. (Mo thinks both are yummy.)
And now I’m blogging! Weeeee! And I realise that I was doing that even before my exam, but now I’m blogging sans guilt, and it feels WONDERFUL! I’m off to watch some guilt-free TV and go to bed guilt-free late! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!