Moose eats a lot of fruit—strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, bananas and apples.
Moose is regular.
Last week, Moose was more than a little regular. The next day Jax was decidedly regular and then the next day Moose was exceedingly regular.
I’m trying to be delicate.
When Jax decided that the apple juice tasted funny, Papa and I investigated. I don’t care for apple juice, but I took a swig and was surprised to find that it tasted quite nice, like maybe it had fermented a little. We had discovered the root of the gastro distress, or so we thought, and so we dispensed with the Bean Family Emergency Plan which states that all contagious blanket toters are to be quarantined immediately.
All was well on Friday evening. I had my chardonnay and ice cream after the little Beans went to bed. Jax crawled in the bed with me around midnight while Hyacinth slumbered at my feet sawing sequoia logs. Despite the cramped quarters and the noise, I dosed peacefully… until the mutant super bug came out of nowhere and jumped on me.
It was awful, and after I had retched until I thought I could retch no longer, I crawled back in the bed.
My skin was sticky, and a vile taste lingered in my mouth. I couldn’t brush my teeth because I would hurl again, and I damn well couldn’t drink anything. My esophagus felt like it had been burned by bleach, and with the room spinning, Hyacinth snores seemed to get louder and louder. Jax had taken over more than half the bed, and then, going from hell to sheer hell, I caught a song worm.
The. Worst. Night. Of. My. Life.
In the morning, the little Beans were all jubilant and jumping about, and Papa was yelling for me to get up.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk.
And then Moose bounced on me, and I screamed, and then I crawled out of bed, exhausted and shaky, and managed to park Jax in front of the iPad and lock Moose in his room.
“A little too much vino last night, Jenny?” Papa asked.
I shot him the bird.
After a couple of hours of sleep and some gingerale, I came slowly back to life.
Then I heard it—Papa tossing cookies in the bathroom. The nasty super bug had gotten him too.
Note
I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no and no. No, I did not ask Papa if he had too many sangrias. And, no, I did not pass the song worm along to him, although the idea did occur to me.
{ 12 comments }
I feel for you. Audrey did the same thing. I was still that proud mom that didn’t ask for help, especially since I had 2 glasses of wine the night before, I thought I just had a hangover and didn’t deserve help. Everytime she would barf, I would barf. We had barf all over us and by the time Casey got home we were both crying on the floor as I was cleaning the carpet. I’m sure he wanted to go back to work at that point. Hope you guys feel better!
Nicole: Thank you! We’re much better. And you poor thing–having to clean up the carpet.
And I felt bad that I caught a cold this week. Nothing is worst than the stomach flu!!!
Glad you’re better!
Oooh those nasty mutant bugs. And the sweet darlings that share them 🙂
Damn you’re a good writer! I so thoroughly enjoy you.
…and sorry you hurled.
You know it’s a Bad Ass Bug when your best friend is a plastic bucket. To get from my office to the kitchen for some ginger ale I had to crawl along pushing my new friend along ahead of me. I was one with the bucket.
Fortunately, after a few hours I had the strength to get out the rum bottle and fortify the ginger ale. Then things got better. Good thing, because Moose unloaded the refrigerator and someone had to put it all back.
Betsy: Thank you!
Ally: Sweet little darlings? Are you talking about my wild little Indians?!
Sandra: You made my day!
Papa: You haven’t paid my finder’s fee for introducing you to your new BFF.
It’s going around fo’ sure!! Stay away from my 4 kids and me, mutant super virus!! That graphic is HILARIOUS.
Oh no- At first I liked the idea of wine and ice cream, but then I thought about it coming back up. Poor woman. And not just for the sickness- I can’t believe you made it through alive with that horrid song stuck in your head.
Kristi: It was God awful. I hope we haven’t given it to anybody… well, maybe just one or two people….
Jeanette: It was a waste of damn good chardonnay and ice cream. The song almost unglued me. I would have shot myself, but I was too weak to go looking for Papa’s gun. Besides, there are NO bullets in the house!
Good to know you’re better now. We moms simply can’t afford to get sick.
Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh so glad it didn’t last long. That’s awful
Comments on this entry are closed.