It turns out that...how to put this delicately...'recycled' Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (sadly for me, it really was the cheesiest) once run through the washer and dryer, turns an odd green color.
That is the same color that my wife and three daughters turned Friday night...in the middle of our dinner party. We had 12 adults and 13 kids over for a get together that we had been planning for a month, and Mrs. More had been cooking and cleaning for all week. We were quite excited and had a great evening planned.
Apparently, our plans were lukewarm, as they were treated like the church in Laodicea by most of my family. Fortunately, I learned, whatever bug decided to join/attack/destroy our party was not a 'dine and dasher', no, no. This one stayed the whole evening. Starting around 9 p.m. or so, and lasting until 6 a.m. Saturday morning, like a reverse curse of the first-born males, all things More and female were struck low.
Now, in our 7 years of parenting, we've had Mrs. More sick, and we've certainly had a Morette or two sick. But NEVER have we had the delightful combination of Mrs. More and all the Morettes sick simultaneously. I learned what a joy that is. I learned that when Mrs. More goes down, everyone else has to be well, no exceptions.
I also learned that when a Morette made another porcelain offering, it triggered an odd chain reaction of offerings by the rest of the debilitated. I learned that the bug is a night-owlish sort, causing me to nod off--on the couch for the first time in our marriage, and for much better (or was it worse?) reasons than the stereotyped couch-sleepers--after 3 a.m. and arise to baby cries in the 6 a.m. hour.
I then started to learn about our domestic appliances. I tried to do this without waking Mrs. More, who was then enjoying her 47th minute of uninterrupted sleep. Yes, I am sure a number of clothing and bedding items were ruined because of my handiwork, but, frankly, as those who know me will attest, the wrong man was sent for the job. But I did learn you cannot wash everything on 'hot'. I learned there is no setting on our washer for "toxic" or "HAZMAT". I learned sleeping bags can go through the washer, despite what the tag says. They just should not go through in the same load as the blankets they were replacing.
Anyhow, I made it through something like 47 loads of laundry and two loads of dishes. This combination, in one gruesome Saturday morning, passed the COMBINED total of my previous endeavors in these trying arenas up to this point in my married life. Now that things--including stomachs--are settling down again, I'm sure everyone will agree that there are somethings best left to the experts.
Another thing I learned, and this was probably already known but enjoyable in the demonstration, is that my old friends had no problem stepping up in the time of need. After Mrs. More had retired, we kept on with the dinner thinking things would be OK. Then, when the first Morette starting recoloring the carpet at the top of the steps--fortunately not having the full cascading effect that was possible--the old gang flew into action. Look, I don't like cleaning up for my own family, but to have friends helping out for my kids was really touching.
Then the next Morette went down. Her offering was made from on high. She started from the top bunk in the room where all the girl guests were sleeping. Most, amazingly, slept through the barrage--even though some P.J.'s were collateral damage. I don't know how they slept while taking on friendly fire. No surface area was spared. Both bunks, the pull-out bed, the ladder, the floor--none escaped. And into the mire flew Mrs. Guest on the clean up crew, while I continued to labor with the "clean-up, Morette 1" and to try to get the Morettes lying down and comforted. In the complete history of dinner parties, I have to doubt one has been as successful as this one.
The success, of course, was not in things going according to plan, but in seeing friends flying to action in the time of need. By the time I made it back down stairs ("ah, where were we?...Seconds anyone?") the gang had already washed and dried most of the dishes. We simply traded in our alcohol for alcohol/anti-bacterial lotion, shared a few laughs about the night and said "see you Sunday!"
There are some things, that even as they are disastrously occurring, you know that you will laugh about with your good friends over the years.
I learned infectious dinner parties can be one such thing. I learned, again, that I have some really good friends. I learned that we should never do that again.
Do not put your [friends] to the test,
Thomas More
Too funny .... uh, now that it's over, that is. Mrs. More and Morettes, we feel your pain. Thomas, we feel yours too, really we do. But the fact that you have taken advantage of a mere 47 opportunities in your marital life to do laundry and dishes reveals a remarkably insufficient record. Mrs. More, I would threaten to repeat the exercise (a little spoiled milk would do the trick) unless Mr. More agrees to a more regular regimen of washing. It's good for everyone involved: kids see their dad helping mom out around the house, dad appreciates mom's labor, and mom just might return the favor in some "in kind" arrangement.
Thomas, we are, of course, giving you a hard time. But it's so fun... who can blame us?
Posted by: Lucy | March 05, 2008 at 06:33 PM
Lucy,
The above comment will be deleted as soon as I figure out how! I like specialists. I rarely ask my wife or kids to write a brief or argue a case in court. Conversely, they lay off the washing requests, except in emergency. It is a wonderful arrangement!
Now, as to your "in kind" arrangement, that has my attention, and should be thoroughly outlined to Mrs. More. I like your idea of kids seeing parents help each other. I'm not sure I like it to the point of doing that much laundry, but I'll look for more opportunities.
I have no problem with everyone giving me a hard time--I've earned/deserve it!
Posted by: Thomas More | March 06, 2008 at 11:24 AM