Fun day turns sour with potential for illness

I hope you enjoyed your spring break and are coming back refreshed and eager to knock out the rest of this semester.

I can’t say I’m refreshed because my professors assigned three papers for me to write, but I did enjoy some of my time off.
My older daughter Ashley and I had planned to leave Thursday morning for a three-day visit with my younger daughter Tracie in Fort Worth.

Oh, I haven’t told you Ashley, a human resources major, also is attending the University—never in a million years would I have ever dreamed I would be going to college with my daughter! The three of us spent the day shopping, trying out new restaurants and sightseeing.

Friday began with a jaunt to Frisco for more retail therapy at Ikea—a discount diva’s heaven! We worked up an appetite traipsing around this massive two-storied discount warehouse for two hours and then decided to take a lunch break at their cafeteria.

Tracie and Ashley ordered their favorites, while I tried something new, the house specialty of Swedish meatballs with cream gravy.

We began eating and immediately I was totally blown away by how scrumptious the meatball were—ahh, that’s why packages of frozen ones are sold at the checkout stands! Who knew!

Then I did something I still can’t believe I did. I broke one of my own cardinal rules of parenting: Never eat or drink after anyone. But that’s exactly what I did as I offered a bite of my meatballs to each daughter.

This gesture was quite out of character for a germophobe like me; and although my daughters were shocked, both ate from my fork and agreed the meatballs were yummy. Our meal revived us, and we resumed our individual shopping missions.

Ashley was determined to find the perfect bookcase for her living room and a pair of lamps for her nightstands, and I’m happy to report mission accomplished.

Our endorphin levels were soaring as we pushed two baskets and one cart to the loading area. Ashley backed her SUV, a Kia Soul, into position and then the dockworker maneuvered the bigger of the two boxes containing the bookcase into the back and pulled down the hatch to see if it would close—it wouldn’t.

My daughters and I expelled a collective gasp, as our endorphin levels plummeted. Oh, no! Houston, we have a problem. The dockworker adjusted the front seat, making the back stand straight up and tried the hatch again. This time it closed. Hallelujah!

Now we had to load everything else, which took a while. We were packed like sardines!

Our next stop was The Cheesecake Factory—just what we needed, a sugar high to liven things up!. My improper gesture at lunch prompted both my daughters to sample each other’s food.

What had I done?

Afterward the Allen Outlet Mall was our next stop, another place I had never been. Tracie awoke Saturday with a sore throat, and she was sure it was strep. Yuck!

I flipped a switch and went into mommy mode, accompanying her to a medical clinic. You have to realize how much I detest going to a doctor’s office when I am not sick—sheer agony for a germophobe—but I’d do anything for my children.

Tracie’s diagnosis was strep throat, tonsillitis and mononucleosis. My first thought was, “Oh, crap! We ate after each other, so Ashley and I have been exposed! Why did we do such a stupid thing?”

The doctor informed me I probably wouldn’t get mono since only people between the ages of 15 and 35 usually do, so I was safe. But she added, “Good luck with the Strep.”

Tracie received a shot of steroids, a shot of antibiotics, three prescriptions and orders to not work for a week and to take it easy for six weeks to three months.

Ashley and I purchased food, supplies and medicine, and while I was getting Tracie settled in, Ashley loaded her car with our luggage for our trip home. Ever possible crevice was packed with something, leaving only the driver’s seat and a small space behind it for us to sit.

Ashley said it looked as if she were my chauffeur. “I’m drivin’ Miss Hattie,” she said.

We cracked up laughing and wondered what people thought when they saw us going down the highway.

Medical Update: Tracie is recovering nicely and neither Ashley nor I have succumbed to strep, but signs of mono usually develop four to six weeks after exposure.

We’re keeping our fingers crossed just in case.

Visit Hattie’s Recipe Box online at www.patriottalon.com to find a recipe for Cherry Cream Cheese Pie reminiscent of the pie I ate at The Cheesecake Factory.