*making up for lost time results in really long blog posts.
So....I possibly have failed in my duties to this blog for the last - eh...five days. I have my reasons though. First, ya'll knew I was going on vacation.
(And vacation means relaxing, unplugging the computer, shopping excessively and getting sick.)
I know, you're scratching your head. Getting sick? What does that have anything to do with going on vacation?
For me, everything.
Every year growing up, Mom and Dad took me and my sibs on a yearly vay-cay. We went everywhere. Places like Orlando, D.C., Denver, Canada (there are some weird peeps in that country) Memphis, Atlanta, Phoenix, St. Louis, Chicago, Myrtle Beach. The list goes on.
And, without a doubt, each year I would get sick en route or after arrival. 90% of the time it was strep. It got so bad (and predictable) that my Mom would call my doctor ahead of time to find out where our insurance was accepted in the city we were journeying to.
So, because of my apparent immune system failures, at least two days of the fam's vacation would inevitably be dedicated to finding me prescriptions and 7-UP instead of touring _____ city and going to Six Flags. My sibs loved me.
Time passed, us kids got older and the full-on family vacations ceased. As did my sicknesses.
(In addition, vacations for me in general became fewer and farther between. It's hard to go anywhere when you're actually footing the bill.)
So, the curse was lifted. It appeared that because vacations had lessened, I had been cured of all things sickness while in states unknown.
Anyways, this weekend was me and hubs mini-vay-cay in Dallas to visit Erin, her hubs and baby D. Hubs and I left Friday afternoon and began the 8 hour car ride. You remember.
So here's what happened:
We arrive at 11.45 pm, neither of us having killed each other over music choice on the way down. Exhausted from the journey, we say hello to my bestie, and hit the hay.
Saturday is IKEA. In all its glory. Hubs, Erin, baby D and I all anticipate the shopping goodness as we drove there.
(Erin's hubs worked a 12-hour shift the night before (he's an intern a la "Grey's Anatomy"...minus the sexual drama) so while he slept, we shopped.)
However, three minutes before arriving at the holiest of holies, baby D very quietly vomits up the contents of her morning breakfast onto her shirt and car seat. Erin comments that this is quite strange, as D never vomits.
We chalk it up to car sickness, buy her a new shirt (God I love Target) and head into IKEA.
After two solid hours of "oh my god, so cute" and "is this thing really this cheap?" and "Hubs, we need this wok. I know we have one already but this one is ORANGE!" we decide to get some grub.
Hubs dines on Swedish meatballs, while Erin, D and I consume slightly undercooked pasta and cheap hot dogs. Delish.
Thirty minutes later, we gaily stroll through the kitchen section, blissfully unaware of what is about to happen.
Suddenly we hear a gurgle. Out of D's mouth comes the hot dogs and slightly undercooked but now partially digested pasta.
It is everywhere. And beige. And really, really smelly.
Hubs reacts with cat-like reflexes and grabs some decorative napkins from the nearby kitchen display to begin mopping up the mess. (I hope this is not considered stealing from the store.) Erin and I can clearly see this will require a bathroom visit, we we instruct hubs to buy our goodies while we handle the regurgitation situation.
We enter the "family bathroom."
It reeks. Of things you don't want to know about.
(You know you love your child (or your bestie's child) when you stomach fresh vomit, the smell of sewer and the sight of regurgitated hot dogs, all in the name of cleaning off the baby.)
Because we have no additional clothes for baby D, we take her to the car in just her diaper, socks and shoes. (And expertly ignore the IKEA shoppers dialing child services on their cell phones.) We praise God for the decent weather and load D in her car seat, laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of this situation.
(I mean really, five years ago our biggest concern at IKEA would be wondering if our Visa would work since we'd forgotten to pay the bill for the last three months. Now, we are abandoning our fave store because baby D is sick and she's the first priority. We have grown up. At long last.)
Hubs loads up our purchases into the van and we go home and put D to bed. Then we play ungodly amounts of Wii. Erin kicks all of our butts at the boxing. Because she clearly cheats.
Sunday the boys golf, the girls shop. (Yay! I will show you my amazing purchase tomorrow.) D is feeling fine, the weather is great. The boys and girls meet up later for dinner and share loads of laughs and good food. Things seem to be on the up and up. But, then again, it is always lightest before it gets dark.
We return home. And Erin pukes.
Twenty minutes pass. Jared pukes.
Erin and Jared go to bed, and hubs and I thank our lucky stars we aren't sick. Because, you know, we have a 8 hour car ride to get home.
Hubs and I go to bed.
I wake up at 11.30 pm and, as Chandler Bing would say, "visit a little town south of throw up." For the rest of the night.
Monday morning arrives and I am miserable. I want to go home and let Erin, Jared and D rest in peace. Thankfully, hubs has avoided this disastrous sickness and is able to drive.
After 4 hours in the car, we stop in Oklahoma to see some friends. We intend to stay only long enough for dinner, but I am so sick I can't even think about driving. So we decide to stay the night.
I got to bed at 8 (this is not that out of the ordinary for me, but still) and hubs and our friends go to dinner.
Hubs gets back from dinner. And pukes.
He has not avoided the plague after all.
Tuesday morning we awake and I am well enough to drive us home. We spend the rest of Tuesday on the couch.
So there you have it. The curse is not broken. I still get sick on vacations and have apparently brought hubs down with me. (This is pretty indicitave of our marriage, since hubs used to be a total clean freak, but has become accustomed to my sloppy ways.)
The whole weekend sounds like a drag, but it was really quite awesome. I left out a lot of the great parts because they're mostly gross inside jokes. (Oh, and because of D, I still have raging baby fever.) We truly did have a fantastical time. I got to see my best bestie and I can't wait to do it again. Without the throw up.
In fact, hubs accidentally left his golf clubs in Dallas, so either we have to go get them or E and J have to bring them back to us. And then E and I can go shopping again. And again. And again.
It's a viciously wonderful cycle.
PS - This poop/puke virus is apparently everywhere, so wash your hands a lot and stay at home if you manage to get it. Seriously. Don't be that guy that goes to work all sickly just to prove how awesomely commited to the company you are. Everyone sees through that. Stay home.
PPS- I missed all of you, bloggies!