… guess I’ll go eat… oh, geez. I can’t even say it.
Whenever one of the kids is having a “woe is me” moment, as befits my loving maternal style, I often suggest that the afflicted one go eat some worms, because that’s what one does when life is so unfair and tragic, right? (Acceptable alternatives to suggesting a feast of slimy limbless creatures: Asking where the sad one lost their tail, or inquiring as to the tragedy of their lean-to blowing over.) As you might imagine, my ministrations are deeply appreciated by my offspring. FEEL THE LOVE! Obviously I am usually able to make everything better with my helpful suggestions.
Well. I don’t know about YOU, but we were hoping for a relaxing weekend here at Casa Mir. It had kind of been A Week, and all I wanted to do was sleep and chill out and just maybe let everyone unwind a bit.
But that didn’t happen, and it’s because my kids apparently took my advice.
I mean, sure, when I’m giving REAL advice, no one listens. But try to throw a little humor into the mix, and BAM, compliance. Of course.
I’m speaking, of course, of the eating worms thing. Because nothing says Saturday night like, “Ummmm… Mom? Can you come here? Are there supposed to be living things in my poop?”
Really not the relaxing weekend I ordered, is my point.
There was some investigating and some consultation with Dr. Google and I was able to ascertain that one of my darlings did indeed have, um, invaders. Pinworms, to be precise. (No, I’m not linking you to any giant pictures. You’re welcome.) And everything I read assured me that I should not be alarmed! Because they’re very common! And not terribly dangerous! And look, there’s even over-the-counter medication available for it, so no need to sit around late on a Saturday night trying to decide whether or not it merited an urgent page to the pediatrician!
Otto was kind enough to go out to buy the meds, while I alternately kept reading up on it and tried to soothe my freaked-out kid. (“I don’t want there to be worms inside me! Whyyyyyyyy meeeeeeeeeee?”) (Answer: “I’m not sure, honey. Let me think. Did your lean-to blow over? That’s probably why.”)
I read conflicting suggestions on whether or not to treat the whole family. About half of what I read said: “Highly contagious but easily treatable! Treat the entire family as a default!” The other half said: “No need to treat the entire family, unless there’s a recurrence!” So I read everything I could and thought about it very carefully.
Because, on the one hand: It can be asymptomatic, and there’s a decent chance that at the very LEAST, both kids have it, and maybe us adults, too. And on the other hand: Why take medication unnecessarily. And then if there was a third hand—which in my mind’s eye, there totally was—WORMS! ACK! WORMS!!!!
I made an executive decision that we were all going to take the meds.
Otto struck out at the first store he visited, just missed closing time at the next two, and finally hit pay dirt at the fourth store. He came home triumphant with a container full of something called Pin-X.
The dosage is done by weight, so we consulted the chart and doled out chewable orange wafers to everyone. We all stood around in the kitchen and started chewing.
“Yum!” said the kids.
“This reminds me of something,” Otto said.
“Me too,” I said.
“I think it’s the chewable vitamin C I used to take as a kid,” he went on. I nodded in agreement. “That kind of yummy orange stuff? That’s what it tastes like.”
We all chewed in happy silence for a few more seconds.
And then the aftertaste kicked in.
You have never seen so many people scramble for water all at once. I thought there was going to be a throwdown right there in front of the ice dispenser.
So THAT was fun.
Everyone had showers and clean sheets and that was the lead-in to my “relaxing weekend” of doing ten loads of laundry and vacuuming the entire house (pinworm eggs are sticky and live forever and can be inhaled!) and OH BY THE WAY, that Pin-X stuff has a chance of side effects.
Let me put it to you this way: Otto and the child who is not confirmed to have worms were perfectly fine. No problems whatsoever.
But the kid who definitely has worms and I have had… ummm… side effects. Stomach-wrenching side effects.
On the bright side: Pretty sure I lost five pounds this weekend! Wooooo!
But on the other hand: I am now irrationally convinced that I was indeed infested as well (even though I had no symptoms), because why else would I have the same symptoms as the afflicted child UNLESS it was somehow related to die-off or something? Maybe we two are just DELICATE FLOWERS? Yes? Please??
Last night I dreamed of worms. Everywhere. I opened the washing machine to move the bazillionth load of laundry and thousands of tiny worms spilled out. I woke up in a cold sweat.
What I am trying to tell you is that my lean-to TOTALLY blew over this weekend. Dammit.