Once upon a time, I didn't think it was possible for anyone to have the stomach flu on Christmas Day. I thought there had to be some sort of exemption on that day. Colds were allowed, but certainly not something as uncomfortable as a stomach bug.
Then came Christmas 2005 when Landen was 2 years and Nathan almost 2 months old. We made it through Christmas Day alright. Then we went on a fun family trip to the Black Hills with David's family. All was well for a couple days. Then the stomach flu snuck into the cabin. By the time it had run its course, only a couple of people were spared. It was truly the gift that kept on giving.
The next year brought a beautiful Christmas morning interrupted by Landen coughing on camera and then announcing, "I puked."
The next year brought the exact same thing--only that year Nathan joined in. (Uncanny--and gross--I know.)
Last year Teresa & Nathan both came down with an intestinal bug near the beginning of December that lasted a full seven days for each of them. Of course they staggered their infections, so we were having "fun" right up until the night of December 23. Then God smiled on us and gave us our first healthy Christmas in years. I was ecstatic and genuinely grateful.
On January 2, Teresa & Nathan succumbed to yet another bug. My first reaction? "Happy New Year."
Certainly our family had to be the only family to have such a terrible track record for this sort of thing on Christmas.
Not so! It seems Erma Bombeck and I have yet another thing in common.
Her column, "The Kids are Sick--It Must Be Christmas" ran on December 18, 1970:
"The other day Bruce complained. "My head hurts and my nose is stuffy."
"Ridiculous," I said. "It's too early. Christmas is a week away."
Normal people can always predict when the holidays are near at hand. There is an air of excitement, the smell of evergreens, the ringing of bells, the singing of carols. There is a saying at our house. "We got measles. It must be Christmas."
Down at the Laundromat, I am known as Typhoid Mary. "What are you having this year for Christmas?" they ask as I sort my clothes.
"Well, I've got one exposure to chicken pox, one who has had mumps only on his left side, and two just throw up to keep things interesting."
It's never serious enough to be a real emotional drag, but I've forgotten what real Christmases are like. I cornered my friend Donna Robust and begged, "Tell me again about Christmas at your house."
"Well," said Donna, "on Christmas morning I get up first and--"
"Start going through the yellow pages to find a drugstore open," I said, my eyes glistening.
"No, no"--she laughed--"I turn on all the lights around the Christmas tree. The I ring the sleigh bells and--"
"I know, I know." I said excitedly, "it's pill time. You give one a spoon of Coke syrup, another an aspirin and the baby a suppository for nausea."
She shook her head. "I summon them all around the tree to open up their presents. Then, after breakfast, we all get dressed--"
"Can you imagine that" I sighed. "Everybody dressed!"
"Then we go to church, and that afternoon we have fifteen or twenty people in for Christmas dinner."
"Once I saw my dad on Christmas. He slid two batteries under the door for a robot monster that didn't include them."
"I bet that was nice," she said.
"Oh, and another time the doctor dropped by to check on us and brought in a bit of snow on his boots. The kids went wild."
"Maybe this year things will be different," said Donna, patting my hand.
"Maybe so, " I sighed, "But tell me again about how you all get dressed and go out . . . ."
Maybe this year will be different. After all, I think we've already paid our dues for the year. We all took our turn with a mild stomach bug before and after Thanksgiving.
Thank goodness we have had our immunizations for chicken box, measles and mumps. At least that is one less thing for us to share!
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