Yep, I know. Gross.

Coughs and colds are rife in our house at this time of year and I’m now wondering if my rather lackadaisical attitude to cleaning may not be exactly helping matters.

Don’t get me wrong, I clean. Occasionally. Every now and again I am consumed with the need to rid my house of dust and I go on a spree, running around the house waving a duster frantically. I even bought a mop the other day.

But, like many other working mothers, I am time poor. To be honest, given the choice of spending the afternoon at the park or behind a hoover, I know what I’d rather do. So, sometimes, I can’t exactly blame a lack of time so much as a lack of inclination. Then again, now I know that gruesome cold fact, I can’t stop looking at my computer mouse and picturing the toilet seat sitting on my desk.

I am in a quandary. I’m not ready to bow down to the cleaning gods and sacrifice myself at the alter of bleach but, you know, that damn toilet seat mouse is looking at me again. I am left with no other option than to come to some sort of compromise and create a cleaning rota. If it means a few less runny noses and a few more good nights of sleep, then I can be dedicated.

How do you keep on top of the cleaning in your house? And while we’re on the subject of colds – do you have any home remedies that work wonders for making you feel better?

For more cold facts to make you cringe, have a look at this:

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This is a commissioned post. Please see my disclosure page for more information. 

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Instead, I’m going to talk to you today about thermometers. Or rather, a thermometer. Being the terribly ill-prepared (pun not intended, but while it’s there I’m going to stick with it) parents that we are, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and myself have never invested in a baby thermometer.

On the rare couple of occasions we’ve needed one, we’ve nipped next door and borrowed theirs. But as time goes on and the amount of earwax Frog shares with the neighbours increases, we thought it about time to make a thermometer purchase.

So which to choose?

Well there are the ones that go on the forehead, the ones that go in the ear, the good old-fashioned mouth ones. And how about those room temperature measuring thingys? But even better, what about a thermometer that does the lot?

Meet the 3-in-1 digital thermometer by Brother Max:

Just as it says on the box, the Brother Max 3-in-1 digital thermometer can be used to measure the temperature of the room or your baby, either in their ear or on their forehead (the baby’s, not the room’s. Obviously).

Clearly it comes with a manual, but as an inherently lazy and corner-cutting type person, I’m not a big fan of manuals. And guess what? I actually managed to work out how to use it myself. It really is that easy.

But the best thing about it – the thing that really got me excited…IT COMES WITH BATTERIES!

Now, everyone knows you have to take out shares with Duracel when you have a baby. With mobiles and activity stations and all-singing toys etc etc batteries are a vital part of family life. And because of a pact between the secret battery police and the people who make most baby stuff, you have to buy your own batteries for everything baby-related. Everything, that is, except the 3-in-1 digital thermometer by Brother Max.

In true review style, I was going to take some beautiful photographs of Frog trying out the thermometer. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been in the posing mood recently – although you’d never have guessed it by the way she’s clutching her hairbrush…

So seeing as Frog wasn’t up for a photo, may I present you with my alternative model…

On second thoughts, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let the biggest hypochondriac known to man loose on the thermometer. Since this picture was taken he’s been “trying it out” every half hour, just to check he’s OK. *sigh*

Anyway, if you’re thinking of investing in a very good thermometer, which can be used on babies and hypochondriacs alike, then look no further. And remember, the Brother Max 3-in-1 digital thermometer can also be used to measure the temperature of rooms – if you can prise it off your resident hypochondriac, that is.

The Brother Max 3-in-1 digital thermometer is available to buy from Boots, Tesco, Mamas & Papas, Sainsbury’s, Amazon, Kiddicare and JoJo Maman Bebe.

Disclaimer: I received no payment for this review. I did, however, receive a 3-in-1 digital thermometer to review, for which the NLM is very grateful.

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No, really, it stinks.

There’s nothing quite like being woken at 2am to change a nappy that smells like something concocted by a mad scientist with a penchant for experiments created out of dustbins and sick. Yum.

It’s been a week now. At first we thought it was the teeth. “It’s those bloody teeth again,” I told the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine knowingly. Then, when a tooth failed to appear, I blamed the water in Rochdale. “It’s this water, it’s different from the Southern stuff she’s used to,” I pronounced, equally as knowingly.

Then it was something she ate. Then it was back to the teeth. Then, after a fifth day of guessing – by which time I’d been struck down too – I had to accept that, sometimes, Mother’s not always right. Sometimes it’s the doctor who knows best. So off I dutifully trudged, stinky baby in tow, to the GP.

And, of course, as soon as we got there Frog perked up. She was commando-crawling, clapping, blowing raspberries and pretty much doing everything she could to put on a good show, except for a tap-dance. She’s yet to learn that trick yet, lazy baby.

I explained that we’d both been poorly. The doctor looked disbelievingly at my almost-tap-dancing child and sent us home with some rehydration sachets and a diagnosis.

The “medicine” is all well and good, but it was the diagnosis I most appreciated. Finally, no more guessing. My options were running out and the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine was starting to get more and more doubtful of my increasingly outlandish attempts to explain away those stinking nappies. “It’s because you took her swimming and let her swallow the water,” I’d yelled at him the day before. “And then you gave her a banana, everyone knows bananas are bad.”

Finally no more need to prove I am the All Knowing One, so in tune with her daughter’s body she merely has to look at her before announcing the problem.

Phew.

My options were running out. Next on my list was Delhi Belly and considering Frog’s never actually been to India I’m aware this may have been clutching at straws.

So a virus it is. But between you and me, those teeth aren’t completely off the hook. Let me have some diagnosis glory at least?

Get well soon Frog.

She's ill. Honest.

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I’ve got the lurgy.

Nothing too traumatic, I’ll survive. But it’s days like today when I wish I could get a sick note and have the day off.

Lesson #43: there are no sick days when you have a baby.

It makes me realise what a tough nut my mum is. The only time I ever remember her being poorly was when she came off her bike and fractured her pelvis. I can clearly see her lying on the floor in the living room, with just her feet poking out from behind the sofa.

Apparently it was the only place she could get comfortable as she couldn’t make it up the stairs. But I have my suspicions she was trying to find a hiding place from my sister and I. I’m not sure our constant cartwheels and requests of “Can I bandage your leg, mum?” were particularly helpful.

Anyway, I’m off to recline on the sofa and put a cold compress to my brow.  I have a feeling, though, that as soon as I get comfortable, Frog will wake up and demand something or other. Oh well, at least she can’t do cartwheels yet.

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