Letter to my parish priest

Hello Father!

I just wanted to apologize for my family's absence at Mass today. We wanted to make it, but yesterday's events just wouldn't allow. Actually, it all started on Thursday...

When I dropped Abby and Ethan off at the co-op, I should have turned right around and gone back home. You see, one of the moms had kept her son out of school because of stomach problems (diarrhea, mostly). So he was at co-op, playing with the other dozen kids. I saw the red flag, but assumed that he was "over" the illness. Why else would his mom bring him?

Sadly, the next day, Ethan and Abby had the same symptom. In the afternoon, Ethan added a high fever (101.5) and a bout of vomiting to the symptom list. By morning, he seemed back to normal, as did Abby. Whew! It's a short one! We'll be fine to go to church tomorrow.

NOT. Yesterday afternoon, as we were sitting down to a pizza dinner at one of our local restaurants, Abby started coughing. And then IT started. Without becoming too graphic, lets just say that anything Abby had in her stomach was quickly ejected... onto Mark, the booth, the table and the floor. After a hasty clean-up, we took our food "to go" and drove home. Abby made it all the way until the car pulled in the garage, and then let go again. By the time she finally fell asleep, she had 7 episodes (and five changes of clothes, 2 carpet cleanings, and three loads of laundry).

Now, Father, being the kind and compassionate man you are, I'm sure you're thinking, "oh that poor girl! She must have been miserable!" But Abby is the best sick-person that ever existed. After throwing up, a look crosses her face that says "wow I feel so much better!" and she immediately proceeds to jump on the couch or run around the living room. While we're still cleaning up, she wants to play legos or build puzzles or dance.

When Abby finally fell asleep at 8, I rejoice! That is, until I looked over at Mark, who was white as a ghost and holding his stomach. "I'm not feeling very well..." he stated with a weak smile. And it all began again. Between 10 and 2, Mark alternated between the toilet and the bathroom floor, praying for relief. That's the "holy" part of this story... at least we got some praying in!

I could have brought the kids to church myself this morning, since Abby (bright-eyed and bushy-tailed) woke Ethan and I at 5:15 this morning (doesn't she know her body needs rest when she's sick???) But I figured you wouldn't want to be surprised with a gift of the flu-bug, like we were. Besides that, I'm waiting for my turn. Around this house, it's only a matter of time.

See you next week!

- Trista