Once Bitten

I think I have a little bit of frostbite on my fingertips. How I have lived in these ridiculous climactic conditions for the past 36 years and not gotten frostbitten until now? Still, the story is pretty silly.

We've all been so busy, especially with the theater activities, that regular, weekly errands and chores have fallen by the wayside. Today, with no rehearsal, I was determined to get to Costco. We were out of milk, bread, basically all produce, and other important staples like bacon crumbles and applesauce in squeeze pouches. Even with my mission in mind, somehow I still didn't get around to going to Costco until 5:00 this afternoon.

The four offspring and I dashed into the warehouse and first hit the liquor store. Priorities, priorities. After that quick errand-within-an-errand, we entered the big store. I had barely started hefting bulk snacks into the cart when I started to feel ill. I can't really explain it. I know this, because I tried to explain it to my husband, and I just sounded-- and felt-- stupid. But, I was nauseous, light-headed, dizzy, hot, and just generally feeling yucky.

It came on so suddenly that, naturally, I fought it. I had already fought half the battle, which was getting myself and all four kids into Costco. I wasn't about to turn around and leave without the stuff on my list. I explained to the children that I wasn't feeling well and pleaded with them to cooperate so we could polish off the list quickly and leave. Surprise, surprise, they kind of obeyed. Will wonders never cease?!

The problem happened when we got through the checkout and past the guy who checks your receipt (one of my favorite things ever, because it would be sooo easy to shoplift an industrial-sized jug of laundry detergent.) In the entryway to Costco, I bundled up the children, but did not put on my gloves. I don't know why. I just didn't. It was so flipping cold, I ran to the car, pushing one cart full of children and groceries in front of me and pulling another behind me.

The big girls piled into the back seat, while I pulled each little one from the cart and buckled in her and him. I started the car and returned to unload all my buys into the back end. Still no gloves. My hands quickly-- really quickly-- started to hurt. I just hauled heavier loads at a faster pace.

By the time I hopped into the driver's seat, both hands had gone from painfully cold to numb to stiff and unable to bend. I was already feeling crappy with whatever other sudden ailment had befallen me; now, as my hands started to warm up, they were killing me. So, I sat and cried.

Todd's workplace is very near Costco, and I was really wishing I could just call him to come and get us, because, by this point, I was truly thinking I could not drive. However, I knew he couldn't come and get us because he had earlier called me and told me the battery was dead on his car, so he was counting on me to go after the Costco run and give him a jump. Eventually, a wave of nausea passed, and I could bend my fingers just enough to guide the steering wheel... but they still really hurt.

I pulled up in front of Todd's office and sent one of the kids inside to "tell Daddy I need him." I turned on a movie for the remaining children in the car and put my head down on the steering wheel. Todd came out and asked whether I needed to go to the hospital. I told him, no, I was starting to feel better, which wasn't entirely a lie. He also asked me whether I thought I was menopausal and could be having a hot flash. I did not have the strength, at that moment, to hit him.

After getting his car started, Todd asked whether I thought I could drive home. Since we'd just gotten his car going again, I didn't think it would be prudent to leave it. So, I told him I thought I could drive, but that I would feel better if he drove the car with the kids... just in case I did crash, I didn't want to endanger their little lives, too.

Todd followed me for a while, called me once to tell me to stop weaving, and, then, after deeming me roadworthy, said he was going to stop and feed the children supper, but I should continue on home. I did just that. After Todd mentioned supper, I started thinking: Am I maybe feeling so crappy because I need to eat? It slowly occurred to me that my "nutritional" (totally the wrong choice of words) intake for the day had been one jelly donut, a 52-ounce Diet Mountain Dew, and a handful of gummy bears.

Once home, I had a string cheese and some blueberries and began to feel much better. When the tribe arrived home, I helped to put away all the groceries. Standing in the kitchen, Todd said, "Maybe you're pregnant." From menopause to pregnancy in one thought leap. Swell. I hope I made equally horrified expressions in response to both suggestions.

A short time later, when I was tucking the kids into bed, I noticed Amanda wearing a goofy grin on her face. As I kissed her goodnight, she whispered to me, "I hope it's a boy this time."

In summation:
1. It is important to eat real food every day.
2. My fingertips still hurt, so why am I typing this long telenovela?
3. I am not pregnant.