There's certain stuff that you should never risk leaving the house without when going anywhere with a one year old:
3. Nappy bags
4. A book with pages that don't rip, or a toy that makes annoying noises
5. A plastic box of random food that can stay in the bottom of a bag for ages without going off.
So taking a five hour journey home with none of these things was a bit of an oversight. Especially when someone's got diarrhea.
According to the the telly, Christmas is all, sitting off round an open fire and eating roasted chestnuts, while tucking into a turkey the size of Luxembourg.
At no point does anyone mention the ridiculous number of miles you have to cover to hang out with family if you don't all live round the corner from each other.
We'd done the Oasis scale tour of the north, but with Ben working the day after Boxing Day, I thought Nancy and I could kick around my mum's house for another couple of days, take advantage of a possible lie in, and then get the train home.
I thought I'd been mega organised. Washed and tumble dried all our stuff. Made sandwiches to take with us to avoid the train trolley man.
But turns out if had all gone to shit.
The first massive bum explosion happened while waiting on the platform at the station for the train.
It was then I realised I'd left all bar two nappies and everything else that might have been useful, on my mum's kitchen table.
We'd only been on the train ten minutes when Nancy let rip again.
This was during her signature move of cruising up and down the carriage, trying to get the attention and possible smiles of passengers, most of whom are minding their own business.
Only this time she was skunking everyone on route.
That's the other thing that Morrisons/Asda/M and S don't seem to highlight while we're all supposedly making snowmen in our new cashmere sweaters.
Christmas makes everyone ill.
I don't want to sound all bah humbug, because I love Christmas.
I love hanging out with my family. My extended family. The Royle Family. I love the meals that go right. The ones that go wrong. I love guilt free telly in the day. Constant tins of chocolates. Harveys Bristol Cream. Cracker jokes. Roast potatoes. Bubble and squeak. Red wine. White wine. Sparkly wine.
I love it all.
It just seems a tad unfair that the pay off is conjunctivitis, diarrhea, sore throats, flemmy coughs and never ending snotty noses.
But I guess if you've got all the stuff to self medicate then you go some way to sorting this. A spare nappy on a long journey would be a start.
Next year will be different.
I'm going to be so on it.
I'm going to be motivated and driven. I'm going to be focused and organised.
I'm not going to recognise myself in 2013.
But for now, I'm going to remember to leave the house with the change bag.