Elle spent the entire day before Easter at a neighbor’s house enjoying games and fun and other kids. She’s an only child so any opportunity that comes her way to spend time with other kids, well…I’m practically throwing her at them. So I fed her and dressed her and watched her skip down the road to her Easter party, a big grin on her face and a basket in hand. Approximately 800 hours later, I went by to pick her up and take her (and all her Easter party winnings – big basket and a bazillion plastic eggs) home. Before I was allowed to leave, however, I was introduced to every visiting member of my neighbor’s family from South Florida. South Florida…(this is a very important detail of my otherwise very unimportant story).
Within 24 hours, we were all sick. And I’m not talking about sniffling and moaning and groaning and whining because we just didn’t feel good. I’m talking about Holy Jeebus I’m seeing stars…nope, that’s the bathroom floor. When did the bathroom floor get so damn sparkly? Nope, those are definitely stars, albeit sparkly ones, and I’m on the verge of collapsing from dehydration and ooooooh….where’s the bucket???? The bathroom floor sure feels good when it’s not spinning…ooooooh…..gaaawwwddd….letmedie.letmedie.letmedie!!!
That was our Easter. And our day after Easter. And Tuesday was designated as a Day of Recovery. I was now in a standing position, in all of my 5’2″ tall glory, but I hadn’t eaten in nearly 3 days. For a little thing like me, that’s not good. Remember, I’m the skinny girl who stays skinny by not even trying. Elle, on the other hand, was begging for ice cream and cheesecake and oooh, here comes that feeling again, Mommy, I think I atetoomuch!!!! Food = off limits.
My neighbor had called me on Sunday night to see how Elle was feeling. “I’m afraid I poisoned everyone with my cooking. Everyone who’s visiting me is sick. The whole house, all the relatives.” This wasn’t good. But I assured poor Kathy that it wasn’t her cooking, considering I hadn’t even eaten her food. Or considering I hadn’t even walked into her house…or stepped foot in her garage. All I ever did was shake hands with everyone who was visiting from…yep, you guessed it…South Florida.
(If I keep italicizing like that, you’re really gonna expect a huge, how do you say? Denouement. Again, with the italics. Moving on.)
Monday, Kathy called me back to inform me that her neighbors, who had attended the party for all of 2 seconds, were also sick. Kim, a stay-at-home mommy while her husband is deployed, and the baby were sick. So sick, in fact, that the baby went to the doctor. First things first, he asks: Have you taken a trip to South Florida lately?
There’s those two words again!!!!!
And so we all learned two more words: Norwalk virus. For those of you not in the know…that’s the Cruise Ship Flu. That’s the one you hear about on the news all the time that makes those poor souls adrift on the open sea toss their cookies ’til there ain’t no more cookies to toss…then you toss some more, or you’re afraid to move two feet from a toilet because…well, let’s be honest here – bad things will happen in your pants. And you spread it to your cabin mates…then, before too long, 473 out of 1300 people are stricken with Norwalk virus and the ship must return to port for a massive disinfecting…IN SOUTH FLORIDA!!!
(Dude, you did a crappy job cleaning, by the way. I should have your ass fired.)
Hope you all had a Happy Easter. I’m getting a do-over since my Easter Ham consisted of two cut squares of tavern ham and cheese on two Saltine crackers that gave my body enough sustenance to make it another two hours. Elle ended up having to throw away every single thing that was brought back home from the Easter party. At this point, the kid’s just happy to be able to eat her Jelly Belly jellybeans. And my poor neighbors haven’t stopped apologizing since.