I remember being a kid and getting sick at all the wrong times. Usually I’d come down with a fever or a stomach bug or the sniffles right before something really fun was going to happen at school–a holiday party or a field trip–those things that you live for as a child. And I can remember the disappointment I felt as I sat out the day on the couch.
What I didn’t know then is that the grown-ups can feel just as disappointed over missing fun things with their kids/families as a result of these unexpected bugs.
Our church has a cider-press each and every fall. Apple pickers are sent out in droves, and everyone gathers together to roast hot dogs, eat s’mores, go on hay-rack rides, and of course, press apples.
Our first year here, I got very excited about going only to find out that my husband had landed a watch that day. I was lacking in spunk after our first PCS and was too shy to go on my own.
Last year we were in Illinois.
But this year–well this year I started talking about it in August, if not earlier. I said that this would be the year. I mused over how cute Little Miss would be eating her first s’mores, and I wondered what exactly was entailed in the process of pressing apples. We saved up about 8 containers for cider (a few were to share of course) and as the weekend drew closer my excitement got greater.
And then… Saturday night Little Miss came down with a fever.
Sunday morning, she still had the fever, and she had a terrible runny nose. To add insult to injury, said maladies didn’t slow her down a bit. No… she was wound for sound as she stayed home from church with Daddy (I had to teach Sunday School).
I was so bummed out. I wouldn’t get to see Little Miss run around with the other munchkins. We wouldn’t be able to learn the nuances of apple-pressing. No hay-rack rides, no chatting by the fire. It seemed the day was a bust.
But… all hope was not lost. Maybe it’s all those days I spent on the couch crafting my philosophy of life when my friends were in school having a party, or maybe it’s just that it’s my feeling that if you have to do anything you should be able to have *some* fun.
I picked up hot dogs (ok pregnancy nazis, stop reading!), cider, and the fixings for S’mores.
And while we couldn’t press our own apples, we could do other fun things. I dug out the autumn/halloween Garfield and Charlie Brown specials that I still had on tape from when I was a kid (boy weren’t those commercials retro!), and we watched those. We all took naps in the afternoon, and for supper we had our own ‘weinie roast.’ Husband made brats and dogs on the grill, and we drank cider (for some odd reason the Brat tasted exceptionally good despite the
morning sickness all-the-freaking-day sickness I fought all day… The watermelon however, did not). For dessert, I made Little Miss her very first s’more in the microwave. She wasn’t sure what to do with it at first. It was a lot gooeyer than all the other sandwich-style items she generally picks apart. With some modeling from Mom and Dad though, she caught on and dubbed the dessert a good one.
And when she went to bed, husband and I roasted marshmallows in the wood stove… We remembered the Weinie Roast we’d gone too right before we started dating…. we cuddled, and ate s’mores (A.F.D. sickness abated for the most part at this point), and it was good.
Sometimes you just have to make your own rainbow I guess. Or at least your own S’mores.