Bali, baby

Now, where was I? Ah yes, dragging my sorry ass around Singapore in the name of exercise. The point of the (one-off) exercise was Bali - specifically, bikini-wearing in Bali - which is where today's dispatch comes from. 'Why are you updating your blog?' I hear you all cry; 'why are you not out lounging about on a beach somewhere, surfers in sight, cocktail in hand?'   Well because I'm sitting in front of Sofia the First with a vomiting Girl, while everyone else goes lounging and surf-sighting. (Except for the Man, who has had to leave for 3 days for work. Which is why the Girl is sick. You can set your vomiting-alarm by his travel diary.)  
So, Bali. It is NOT Singapore. You poo on the beach in Singapore? You go to jail. Probably forever. Poo on the beach in Bali?  Why limit it to just the once? As a result, we've been hanging out at our villa quite a bit.  A beautiful villa with a beautiful pool. To be on the safe side - I assume - the villa-owner has added a bit of water to the chlorine in the pool.  Turns out that green hair sort of suits my children. Although swollen-shut eyes isn't a great look for the Boy. 
The Baby either has chickenpox (again!) or has been ravaged, all at once, by tiny hungry baby mosquitoes.  Only on her face*, however, which is fine, because who ever looks at a baby's face? (*21 and counting.) So we didn't take any photos of her on her birthday. Which was celebrated the day after her birthday, because we spent her birthday travelling. And biting our tongues to stop selves from wishing her HAPPY BIRTHDAY  every few minutes.  And then the next day, the birthday oooomph was gone. But anyway, she is two! We're hopeful that this is the year she starts to talk slightly. Something - anything - beyond No, and Thiiiiiiis, and MINE!  (And grows out of her mosquito bites.)
Speaking of which, today is the Boy's birthday. And because the Man is away, we are celebrating it tomorrow. Gah. So last night I brought him out to the markets to see if there was anything he wanted to buy. (Luckily, he loves tat).  After touching and picking up every single thing on the island, and possibly getting several contracts out on him by very disgruntled stall-owners, he alighted (the pun will be revealed in a moment) on a small cobra figure. Which of course, he picked up, cupped in his hand, flicked a random switch, and.... Cue screeching, a dropped cobra, and the smell of burning  flesh. Poor the Boy. To cheer him up he got a (very permanent looking) scorpion tattoo covering most of his lower leg.  (Which will go down a treat in school.)  And a fish spa session - which he loved. (Thousands of teeny wriggly baby fish nibbling at your skin - what's not to love??)
However. Despite the poo and the vomit and the blistered hands and scabby faces, Bali seems to be working its magic. I am relaxed! Exhausted and a bit stinky, but the skies are blue and the palm trees swaying. And one of my dearest friends is also here, with her (gorgeous, beautifully behaved, unlighted by bugs of any type) children, in the villa next door. We have a handy booze set up- gin in our villa, wine in hers. (There has been a LOT of going and froing.) But - I can't limit my villa-excursions to nipping next door for some Mummy's Little Helper, so we are heading out now, sick-bowls and pooper-scoopers in hand.   
Next week - we survive the flight home, good health is restored, and I start organising a party for 18 6 year old boys.  At home. Oh GOD why did I just think of that?