Virus vector

Welcome to the virus vector. My husband was the first to introduce the microbes into our home. He brought a lovely selection of flu, stomach virus, and sinus infection home with him from law school, and earned himself a paid vacation to bed for a week. Somehow, the rest of us managed to stay more or less healthy, except for the nagging coughs and running noses. Dutifully, I shipped my children off to school and stayed home to tend to my ailing hubby. All was well, until I tried to give him a saline nasal irrigation treatment. Not knowing what I was doing, I had him lie down while I squeezed half a bottle of nasal saline solution up each nostril. It was supposed to clear up his infection, according to our old pediatrician, NPR, and my sister. I just managed to force all of the goo gunking up his sinuses directly into his ears. The salt burned him from his throat to his nose, up into his ears. For hours, he snorted, snuffed, and sneered at me. "Next time, " he muttered, "figure out what you're doing first!"

On Wednesday, my little princess came down with a stomach virus. She turned a lackluster shade of green and proceeded to throw up everywhere. My husband ran her to the doctor the next morning. By Friday, all three of my children had the bug, and I was washing my 9th load of laundry in two days. Having been through this before with my son, I knew the urgency of getting my kids to eat. Soup broths, ramen noodles, tea, Vitamin Water, and ginger ale were meticulously fed at 15 minute intervals, a teaspoon at a time to each child. For Shabbat dinner I added kosher jello to the repast, just for some variety. On Saturday morning I was scrubbing the bright red gunk out of my son's carpet. We all stayed home coughing, moaning, wheezing, and sniffling in unison. I held on as best I could, praying we'd all be well enough to enjoy the Purim festivities.

By Saturday night, everyone was feeling noticeably better, but we thought it best to keep our crud to ourselves. We dressed up the kids, and my husband did a valiant job reading the Megilla for the first time, trope and all. It was an impressive feat, almost as impressive as our kids staying up and alert for the whole thing.

After the reading, I put the whole lot of them to bed and stayed up to make more hamentaschen. I was inspired to make backwards hamentaschen - chocolate cookie dough, with white chocolate chips in the middle. I had never seen it done, and thought I was breaking new Purim pastry territory. A Purim pioneer! I rolled out the dough, melted the chips with a little margarine to soften them, and then overcooked the heck out of them. They were quite crispy by the time I had finished the last batch at 11:30 pm.

And, as it turns out, quite unoriginal. One of the first Mishloach Manot baskets we received had a baggy of them.

And to make matters worse, mine were horrible. They made me so sick, I couldn't sleep, writhing, and moaning in nauseous agony. I grabbed one of the ubiquitous trash buckets by the bed and waited and prayed. Nothing came out and I finally fell asleep, but by the morning, I realized that it wasn't the cookie, which the ballerina princess, feeling much better declared "the best!" The bugs had finally caught up with the Mommy. I woke up, my stomach feeling no better than it had before, and now the rest of my body was aching.

Our first Purim in Chicago has not gone as planned. We're quite a sight. We all look pretty scary without the masks. Roles have been reversed. My husband made up the Purim baskets, cleaned the kitchen, fed the kids, dressed them in their costumes, and took them out to deliver the baskets of homemade hamentaschen ranging from fair to middlin' to gag! Ack! Gaaah! This has not been a banner year. But that's Purim! "Ve nahafoch hu", everything topsy turvy. The main caregiver (me!) is being comforted and cared for by her family, cookies that are meant to be sweet are nasty. And a celebration meant to be public, joyous, and rowdy, is quiet and subdued.

In a way, I suppose that's appropriate.

My husband took the kids out to deliver the baskets, and then they're going to the synagogue to hear the Megilla again. Our friends have been dropping by baskets all day. Beautiful, creative, funny, and smart treats to fulfill one of the commandments for the day. I'm a little embarrassed by our weak offerings this year, but if we manage not to infect everyone, we've done a good mitzvah, indeed.