Of Tuna Melts and Strawberry-Guava Juice

I don't usually post about things like being sick. Not that I have any opposition to the topic mind you, I just figure you've seen sickness before, know it well and don't want to be bothered with my own horror stories of my children being ill and doing a Jackson Pollock in the bathroom at three in the morning.

It happens, and it ain't pretty. But this time it wasn't them, it was me. I haven't been sick in over a year--not sure why but there it is. Healthy and happy and feeling good until last week. First Grace, then Andrew, then David, then Lillian, one by one they each did their time and I nursed them back to health until Friday night when I myself started feeling yucky. Not bad, not out and out sick, just rather yucky--"under the weather" as Andrew says. Of course that didn't stop Andrew and I from going out as we normally do on Friday nights and since I wasn't feeling well we decided to opt for a light meal (those who know me well know I can never pass up a chance at food, even when on death's doorstep) and went for sandwiches.

What did I order? A tuna melt. Go figure--I've NEVER ordered tuna in any form, though I've had an occasional tuna sandwich at home. I don't think I've ever ordered seafood period (well maybe shrimp with pasta), it's not my thing but something about feeling a little low had me wanting something warm and lovely with some flavor to get past my rather stuffy nose. That ol' tuna melt just popped out at me and said, "Here I am! Pick me! Oh pick me!"

So I did and it was heavenly. Until about 10 that night when it took a dip in the ratings. Long story short, for the next 48 hours Andrew got much cheap entertainment from sneaking into the bedroom where I lay dying to whisper "Tuna melt!" to me, just to see the groans and pain it brought.

Nice guy. So I didn't eat anything Saturday (and that, my friends is how you know I'm sick, when I don't eat anything) and still by Sunday I wasn't feeling like food. By the evening I'd been able to deal effectively with a few glasses of juice and Spencer, in a burst of Mommy Love, wanted to help me by making up more juice before he and the family headed out for church.

After waking from yet another catatonic stupor I discovered everyone gone and also that I felt rather hungry. Good news, right? That means I'm getting better. Right on schedule, the two-day bug just like the others had, so I swung my legs around to test them and see if I couldn't maybe carefully walk downstairs and get a small bowl of cereal.

The project went fine, I was still pretty weak and shaky but I had the cereal in the bowl--complete with spoon--all ready for milk, and went--still very carefully and weakly--to the refrigerator for the final ingredient. I opened the door, reached for the jug and wouldn't you know it that gallon of juice Spencer had made up (to help mom out) was sitting precariously on the edge of the shelf. I thought, "Wouldn't that be nasty if that fell?" and reached to steady it just as gravity bit and the thing went flying. The pitcher overturned, the lid popped off and it was like the parting of the Red Sea--only in reverse.

If you haven't seen a kitchen covered in strawberry-guava juice you just haven't lived. Walls, cabinets, baseboards, refrigerator, bar stools, nothing was spared its kiss of death including myself. It was like a crime scene and I stood there for a minute, letting the juice trickle down my legs and off my finger tips as the ripples spread to the far reaches of my kitchen and bounced back to schlop against my toes. No one even was there to hear my screams.

Took me half an hour--including moving the refrigerator to mop underneath--to get all that sticky up. It's a good thing the kids weren't there, they would have wondered at the crazy lady covered in pink stains, muttering to herself and slipping around on the kitchen floor.

You know why they say "Don't cry over spilled milk" don't you? It's because juice is so much worse to clean up. Save the tears for the strawberry-guava.

Technorati tags: motherhood, parenting, Alaska