Memorial Day Plans Gone Awry

We had big plans to take a road trip on Memorial Day weekend.  We were going to go see my Uncle Keith and Aunt Leanna and catch a much needed change of pace on the farm.

When Matt woke up on Thursday morning complaining of a stomach ache, I didn't think much of it.  Tummy troubles are not too extraordinary for him.  When Paul's energy lagged all morning and he barely made it through his math lesson, I didn't think much of it.  When most of our family arrived at horse camp to see Elizabeth ride and Lydia began complaining about her stomach, I didn't think much of it.  "Go sit down for awhile," I said.  "It'll go away in a little bit."  When Joel complained on the way home that he felt like he was going to throw up, I didn't think much of it.  "He got too hot at horse camp," I thought.

It wasn't until evening, when I emerged from the work of putting my lesson plan together for that night's Bible study and found every single person in my family sprawled out on the furniture and the floor of the family room that I realized I had an epidemic on my hands.  THE STOMACH FLU.  The bane of every large family.

I went to Bible study without Grace, praying that I would not succumb to sickness before I got through the next few hours.  The Lord answered my prayers.  When I got home at 9 p.m., a very sick Matt had the carpet spot cleaner going to clean up Jude's mess.  Paul informed me that he didn't think we'd be going to the farm the next day.  I knew the kid was sick when I heard that.

I immediately went into prevent-any-more-puke-on-carpet  mode.  Years of mothering has taught me a few things.  I pulled old comforters to cover the couches, placed beach towels on the floor in front of all the couches and on the floor beside the beds.  Knowing they'd most likely need help in the night, littles were arranged in the master bedroom.  I pulled out just about every Tupperware bowl I had to give to each family member.  I steeled myself for a long night.  It was, indeed, one long night.

I got up the next morning to monitor breakfast and make sure no one thought his stomach was up to bacon and eggs.  Instead, I passed out Gatorade and matzoh crackers (good thing I found that awesome clearance deal right after Passover!).  I felt a bit run down, but thought I'd make the best of our change in plans to tackle some of my neglected to do list.  Wrong.  By 11 a.m. I was in bed.

For two days our family subsisted on little bites of bland food.  Jude finally gave up on the Gatorade because he kept throwing it up.  By Saturday night, Elizabeth was desperate for some real food.  I suggested she make the Pioneer Woman's Chicken Spaghetti.  She did.  Paul went full bore into the first meal he'd seen in several days.  Right after dinner, he regretted that decision.  After seeing Paul's demise, Elizabeth said, "I don't care if I do throw up.  It'll be worth it.  I finally got to eat real food."

So that was how we spent our Memorial Day weekend.  Every. single. last. one. of us (that's ten, in case you forgot) got the stomach flu.  And we survived to tell the tale.  I believe this might go down in the family archives as an incident that rivaled The Great Sickness of Deep Lake (at least in my mind it will).

P.S.--I'm sure glad I have a sanitize cycle on my washing machine.  It got a good workout this past week.  Also, I'm getting a little crunchy in my old age and I'm not really keen on the ingredients in Gatorade any more, so I did make up  Jessica's homemade version, which my family liked, but were ever so happy when they no longer had to drink it.

 P.P.S--Yes, both Matt and I had the pleasure of giving lectures on the importance of proper handwashing after we were all better.  Maybe Mom's not so crazy after all.  That's right, soap has to actually come in contact with one's hands in order for it to qualify as a proper handwashing.