When you're lucky enough to be a healthy person, you sometimes refer to having a really bad cold as "the worst." The same might also be said for other relatively minor ailments that pop up along the way: sore throat, headache, etc. But nothing is quite THE WORST as getting the stomach flu. Unless, of course, you get the stomach flu on Mother's Day.
I had all of the best intentions. Her gifts were bought and wrapped well in advance, Netflix sent me Suffragette, and I was prepared to make thick cut, strawberry shortcake French toast.
I woke up feeling a little under the weather, but I figured it would pass. I put 89 in her annual Mother's Day dress and we went to pick up some flowers. When we returned, I filled up our M&M bowl with dark chocolate raspberry Little Secrets (more on them soon) because VM loves raspberry with chocolate.
While our guests were en route, 89 waited impatiently as I began to prepare brunch.
The breakfast turned out divine. Or so I'm told. I served the plates and immediately crawled into bed- still holding out hope that the feeling would pass.
When they were done eating and cleaning up (a fine Mother's Day tradition), VM came upstairs to see how I was- just in time for the moment of stomach flu confirmation. It was not my finest moment.
So, that's where the photos stopped. Dinner was cancelled, as was dessert. I spent three days in bed trying to avoid Instagram because there are way too many food photos when you're not feeling well; all I wanted to see were goats! And this nerd.
Days later, when I was ready to eat, VM delivered some homemade soup from her freezer.
This is an important distinction in my family. While VM makes extraordinary matzoh ball soup, the matzoh balls never pass her lips; she always has a bowl with no balls. That day, it was I who needed a bowl with no balls.
All of this is to say, "Thanks, VM; sorry I ruined Mother's Day. Do-over, please."
Also, beware of germs.
I had all of the best intentions. Her gifts were bought and wrapped well in advance, Netflix sent me Suffragette, and I was prepared to make thick cut, strawberry shortcake French toast.
I woke up feeling a little under the weather, but I figured it would pass. I put 89 in her annual Mother's Day dress and we went to pick up some flowers. When we returned, I filled up our M&M bowl with dark chocolate raspberry Little Secrets (more on them soon) because VM loves raspberry with chocolate.
The breakfast turned out divine. Or so I'm told. I served the plates and immediately crawled into bed- still holding out hope that the feeling would pass.
When they were done eating and cleaning up (a fine Mother's Day tradition), VM came upstairs to see how I was- just in time for the moment of stomach flu confirmation. It was not my finest moment.
So, that's where the photos stopped. Dinner was cancelled, as was dessert. I spent three days in bed trying to avoid Instagram because there are way too many food photos when you're not feeling well; all I wanted to see were goats! And this nerd.
Days later, when I was ready to eat, VM delivered some homemade soup from her freezer.
This is an important distinction in my family. While VM makes extraordinary matzoh ball soup, the matzoh balls never pass her lips; she always has a bowl with no balls. That day, it was I who needed a bowl with no balls.
Although it was only a few days, they were rough ones. Instead of celebrating, poor VM was busy momming on Mom's Day...and beyond. 89 put in some long hours as well. My dad had to mow my lawn!
All of this is to say, "Thanks, VM; sorry I ruined Mother's Day. Do-over, please."
Also, beware of germs.