When we ran out of pasta
Oh wow, this was a week for the family history books.
Caitlyn was pushing out several teeth… slowly, ever so slowly. She was also rubbing her ears and spiking fevers of 102.9.
(Naturally, Scott had said if it hit 103 I should bring her in to be checked.)
Scott was absent most of every day and night between taking hospital call and a major two-day test.
Because Caitlyn wasn’t nursing well I developed a plugged duct, which is much more painful than it sounds.
Oh, and we had a heat wave so holding a sad, sweaty baby around the clock was even stickier than usual.
From Bad to Worse
On the fourth no good very bad day of the week, Caitlyn’s fever broke… but she immediately broke out in a full body rash.
With Scott absent, I did some diagnosing myself and texted him photos and my conclusion: Roseola
The first bright spot in days was that, after gathering details over the phone, he concurred with my diagnosis.
Remind me why we sent him to medical school?
(100% kidding. Dr. Google drives real doctors nuts.)
The Hostess with the Mostest (Fails)
The night of the appearance of Mega Rash, we were hosting our new neighbors for dinner. My primary menu totally failed at the 11th hour so I resorted to the backup plan of pasta.
Cranky Baby and I whipped up two sauces in that hot kitchen, making major errors on each of them in my haste. Scott was stuck at work, and I was desperate by this point so when my neighbors arrived, I put them to work slicing up some fresh peaches while I surreptitiously tried to salvage the sauces.
We sat down with the four remaining children to eat after Caitlyn mercifully went down for her best nap in days.
The peaches were delicious, the pasta was passable, but just barely. I had stopped sweating.
And then the adults all decided we wanted more pasta and I zipped back to the kitchen to dish up, only to find the bowl was bare. There were a dozen noodles left to split between three plates.
After such a rough week, we had none of our normal staples around like homemade bread and bananas. My sleep-deprived brain kept running through the same non-possibilities again and again: Cans of beans, oatmeal, onions. How could I possibly have run out of food to feed our guests? I was briefly glad that Scott wasn’t home because he represented another empty plate.
I stood there at that kitchen counter and took a deep breath. I turned around, stuck my own empty plate in the sink and handed my guests their plates topped with six noodles a piece.
“I’m sorry, we’re out of pasta but there are plenty of peaches!”
How to be a gracious guest
They gamely helped themselves to more peaches, blamed the pasta famine on their own voracious appetites, lingered a while to chat, and reassured me as they left that they were totally full.
Scott arrived home just minutes after our friends left, and after hearing the rundown on the evening he said, “Well, if we turn out to be great friends, this will be a perfect story to look back on and laugh at.” 🙂