When we took Sofia on her first little holiday down to Bath, I don't think either of us were prepared for what lay ahead.
Within hours of arriving, I was flat out on the bathroom floor, sweating, shaking and swearing uncontrollably (as only a true Glaswegian can in these circumstances) as I prayed to all the gods to just make it stop. I wish I could say it was because I'd had too much to drink - even although that would make me sound like a front runner in the mother-of-the-year competition - because at least then I would have had something to blame it on. I would have been responsible for my own misery. But it wasn't. It was simply down to good old-fashioned bad luck.
I had contracted a vomiting virus that was fully intent on doing the rounds in the Stanley household.
I won't go into too much detail about what happened when Stan - who's real name is Matt, by the way, in case any of you reading this think his parents were cruel enough to name him Stan Stanley - caught the bug but let's just say it was a typical case of man-flu-esque whining.
The real fun started when Sofia picked it up. Our only saving grace was that it didn't affect her until we were safely home in Glasgow.
Just as I was starting to get cocky, confident that she hadn't caught it, bouncing her up and down on my knee, it happened: projectile vomiting like I have never seen before. It was like something out of The Exorcist. It went everywhere - and I mean EVERYWHERE.
Have you ever had baby sick in your eye? Here's some advice to the lucky ones out there: don't let it happen to you. Do what you need to do to avoid it - regular glasses aren't durable enough, it gets underneath them (I'm speaking from experience here) - if you think there's any chance your baby is going to spew, make sure you have industrial strength goggles to hand. Because it feels like someone mixed pepper with the juice from a lime and just rubbed it right on your eyeball.
Now I've been known to exaggerate but this is true because my husband verified it when the same thing happened to him about three hours later.
Being the tiny little thing that she was at the time, it took her a few days to get over the virus but she was soon right as rain and back to her usual smiley self - and thankfully we've managed to avoid any further 'sick-in-the-eye' incidents since (knock on wood).
Looking back on it now, I can definitely laugh: the scene that must have greeted Stan as he came thundering down the stairs to see me standing in the middle of the living room holding Sofia 'like a football' (think Rachel from Friends when she held Ben for the first time) covered from head to toe in sick, screaming "my eyes, my eyes" at the top of my lungs.
And I'll leave you with that image. Until next time…