a little over a week ago, jb was the one who was sick.
he was the on-the-mend fever 'n' sniffles flu patient with whom our 10 out of town friends-who-are-so-close-they're-really-our-family-members were deathly afraid of coming in contact during their long weekend here. he was the one they all avoided, right down to the closing moments of our last-minute goodbye barbeque, held outdoors to better allow his putrid virus to disseminate into the air, away from the moist, innocent membranes of their uninfected lungs.
little did we all know that, as we isolated my dewy-eyed little boy, it was their youngest, the little angel-faced 18 month old who was The One Brewing The Germ.
(zat's true irony, folks.)
first l'il angel infected the deep crew with whom she was rolling. one by one, less than 12 hours later, they began to go pine green in the gills. some of them vomited in a local 7-11 parking lot on the way to the airport. others waited until their flight lifted off from lax bound for new york, kicking off what had to have been one of the most unpleasant airborne experiences since wilbur and orville first made kitty hawk famous.
one of them even - i hear through the grapevine - accidentally befouled their own bed. this is a vicious unconfirmed rumor, but after witnessing the true nature of this Infection Most Foul, i do believe it. i believe it as much i believe in ben and jerry themselves.
less than two days later, my youngest began to show signs. and by "began to show signs", i mean "produced pints of home-made sour cream in his crib at 3:45 in the morning. for three days in a row". it wasn't pretty and it didn't smell good.
then, it was mrs b's turn.
then the terrible baton passed to jb, who awoke suddenly around midnight, muttering nonsense over the monitor. when i went into his room to calm him, he started clawing desperately at my mouth, suffering through a fever dream in which, i would discover later, he was convinced i was trying to push him into a lake for some reason. i carried him into the kitchen for a bit of tylenol and calm, and he ended up vomiting into a glass bowl, snapping out of his trance just in time to gaze into this most terrible looking diorama, marveling wide-eyed and grinning at what he had created. "look," he said, "there's not much hot dog but there is a lot of lemonade."
then it was ab's turn.
in time, there was only one man left standing.
Your Boy.
now, i don't know if you've ever gone through your day knowing full well there's a bullet out there with your name on it, a bullet destined to strike without warning and without mercy, but i can assure you that you go through a lot of emotion. ultimately, though, you end up basically shouldering a feeling of resigned indignance.
come and get me, mothereffer. here i am.
(damn i wish i could think of the perfect picture to put here. i've been racking my brain for about an hour thinking of a movie in which someone goes down fighting or is the last man standing or something and i've thought of a few but in the end nothing i'm going to go with. feel free to add any suggestions in the comments, and make me feel dumb won't you?)
i began to hear the gallows being assembled saturday afternoon. i heard the crowd gathering in the town square.
but, unlike the rest of my family, i would not be taken quietly. i would be taken on my terms. i would be taken full of peanut butter cup frozen yogurt.
eventually, my time did come. but, thanks to my foresight and the suffering of those who went before me, when it did, it actually tasted pretty good and was, to my complete surprise, still quite cold.
and then it was over.
i got into bed with an empty tum tum, a massive headache and a fever and i rode it out for 24 hours.
my house is clean now.
but from here on out, i'm sleeping with one eye open. and i'm keeping a frozen yogurt coupon in my wallet at all times.
he was the on-the-mend fever 'n' sniffles flu patient with whom our 10 out of town friends-who-are-so-close-they're-really-our-family-members were deathly afraid of coming in contact during their long weekend here. he was the one they all avoided, right down to the closing moments of our last-minute goodbye barbeque, held outdoors to better allow his putrid virus to disseminate into the air, away from the moist, innocent membranes of their uninfected lungs.
little did we all know that, as we isolated my dewy-eyed little boy, it was their youngest, the little angel-faced 18 month old who was The One Brewing The Germ.
(zat's true irony, folks.)
first l'il angel infected the deep crew with whom she was rolling. one by one, less than 12 hours later, they began to go pine green in the gills. some of them vomited in a local 7-11 parking lot on the way to the airport. others waited until their flight lifted off from lax bound for new york, kicking off what had to have been one of the most unpleasant airborne experiences since wilbur and orville first made kitty hawk famous.
one of them even - i hear through the grapevine - accidentally befouled their own bed. this is a vicious unconfirmed rumor, but after witnessing the true nature of this Infection Most Foul, i do believe it. i believe it as much i believe in ben and jerry themselves.
less than two days later, my youngest began to show signs. and by "began to show signs", i mean "produced pints of home-made sour cream in his crib at 3:45 in the morning. for three days in a row". it wasn't pretty and it didn't smell good.
then, it was mrs b's turn.
then the terrible baton passed to jb, who awoke suddenly around midnight, muttering nonsense over the monitor. when i went into his room to calm him, he started clawing desperately at my mouth, suffering through a fever dream in which, i would discover later, he was convinced i was trying to push him into a lake for some reason. i carried him into the kitchen for a bit of tylenol and calm, and he ended up vomiting into a glass bowl, snapping out of his trance just in time to gaze into this most terrible looking diorama, marveling wide-eyed and grinning at what he had created. "look," he said, "there's not much hot dog but there is a lot of lemonade."
then it was ab's turn.
in time, there was only one man left standing.
Your Boy.
now, i don't know if you've ever gone through your day knowing full well there's a bullet out there with your name on it, a bullet destined to strike without warning and without mercy, but i can assure you that you go through a lot of emotion. ultimately, though, you end up basically shouldering a feeling of resigned indignance.
come and get me, mothereffer. here i am.
(damn i wish i could think of the perfect picture to put here. i've been racking my brain for about an hour thinking of a movie in which someone goes down fighting or is the last man standing or something and i've thought of a few but in the end nothing i'm going to go with. feel free to add any suggestions in the comments, and make me feel dumb won't you?)
i began to hear the gallows being assembled saturday afternoon. i heard the crowd gathering in the town square.
but, unlike the rest of my family, i would not be taken quietly. i would be taken on my terms. i would be taken full of peanut butter cup frozen yogurt.
eventually, my time did come. but, thanks to my foresight and the suffering of those who went before me, when it did, it actually tasted pretty good and was, to my complete surprise, still quite cold.
and then it was over.
i got into bed with an empty tum tum, a massive headache and a fever and i rode it out for 24 hours.
my house is clean now.
but from here on out, i'm sleeping with one eye open. and i'm keeping a frozen yogurt coupon in my wallet at all times.
