Posted by on Feb 12, 2011 in beer, cold, fever | 10 comments

In hindsight, I probably should have realized that we were in for an interesting weekend when Mike got stuck in a parking garage for an hour last night. He actually cursed at one of the garage attendants, which is shocking if you know anything about Mike.
He had offered to pick Ryan up from daycare so I could run a couple of errands, but when he called me in a barely contained rage, ranting about a machine that wouldn’t read his parking ticket, I made a u-turn and headed toward my kid.
When I got there, one of the employees had an entertaining story about how Ryan had projectile spit-up three feet across the room. It sounded like there was quite a bit of cleanup involved. But Ryan seemed to be in good spirits about the event, so I chalked it up to getting our money’s worth, mwuahahaha!
By the time Saturday greeted us, I was battling Ryan’s cold (thanks, kid, for coughing in my face 84 times) and he seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, wheezing in and out, trying to breathe through layers of snot. But he was still fairly cheery, so Mike took him to run errands and I went off to run my own errands. Without my cell phone. Cuz Mike and I have the same phone and evidently he felt he needed two phones today. (As a side note, I discovered that the landline we hooked up “for emergencies” doesn’t dial out. Also, when Target’s website says it has something in stock, it probably doesn’t.)
With the errands complete, Ryan was feeling much worse. And he wasn’t shy about letting us know this. He now had a low fever and was super-duper congested. He spent the next several hours either:
1. Whining. Like, “Eeeeaaaaaahhhhhhheeeeaaaahhhhhhh.”
2. Sleeping fitfully on top of one of us.
or
3. Eating/spitting up all over the place.
I don’t WANNA play.

Around this time, our cat, Belle, let out a low rumble. And then began puking. EVERYWHERE. Over. And. Over.
When she was finally done (and as I was cleaning up piles and piles of puke), she let out another “raaaaaarrrrrrrrrr” and began relieving herself from the other end.
At this point, I did what any Mom would do.
I went on a beer run.
I happily heaved the Landshark out of my trunk and began hauling it up to our condo when, naturally, the box ripped open. The beer crashed to the sidewalk and then fizzzzzzzzzzzzz began leaking out the sides. I turned the box over and heard glass tinkling.
I laughed.
Cuz what else can you do?
I ran upstairs and told Mike there was a mess downstairs and that he should see if he could salvage any of the beer. (Silver lining: it looked a lot worse than it was. Only one bottle was busted. Hooray!)
Of course, by this time, Ryan woke up from his four-minute nap and began screaming. His fever was now over 101 degrees.
So, he got cherry-flavored Tylenol. And we got beer.
I still can’t believe Mike cursed at the parking garage attendant.