There's this McDonald's in Cleveland, TN...

This is going to sound weird, but there's this McDonald's in Cleveland, TN that might be cursed. Or, at least, we have really bad luck there. Both last January and this one, we stopped there for a bathroom break and a quick snack during the journey from my parents' to Brad's, and both years, sickness has befallen us. If it had just happened once, we'd chalk it up to coincidence, but two years in a row??

Our plan for our time down South went like this:
1. Fly in and visit with Brad's family for a few days at the beginning.
2. Spend Christmas and 10ish days with mine.
3. Drive back to Brad's family for 3-4 days before returning to Boston. 

When we wrapped up time with my family, there was a lot of this going on:

These were taken in preparation for the National Championship. War Eagle, anyway.

We're working on not letting our skirts ride up so much.

We strapped Claire into the car seat- which she came to loathe. And, then we drove to TN, stopping in Cleveland, which is about halfway, to stretch our legs, use the bathroom, and grab a smoothie (Brad) and a salad (me). About an hour after our stop, I told Brad that I felt weird. I slept for a little while, and when I woke up, I felt better.

We arrived at the Boswells', and Tim made dinner for everyone. He made a favorite pizza recipe of Brad's and mine: pesto pizza. Everyone enjoyed it, and we had a great time visiting around the table. Unfortunately, it was the last time all of us were going to be hanging out together for the rest of the visit. Because of the Malady. Or the Scourge. Whatever you want to call it.

I slept fitfully that night. I tossed and turned and felt dreadful for hours. At 2:30, I started with the throwing up and threw up every 20 minutes until a little after 6:30. I timed it. It was awful. And, sadly, I don't think I'll be eating pesto pizza for a while. 

I banished Claire from our room for the day and spent the rest of the day resting and trying to hydrate. Brad had a somewhat milder version of the same virus that day, and we spent a chunk of the afternoon just crashed and pitiful.

Around 4:00 am Saturday morning, I heard someone being sick down the hall and thought, "Oh no...it's going to get everyone!" <very dramatically...it was the middle of the night, after all> Tim, Brad's brother, had caught the Scourge and spent the day in bed, recovering. We were holding out hope for Brad's parents and the friend staying with them. 

Brad and I emerged from our room that day, seeing as how we were no longer on Death's Doorstep. I still ended up taking quite a few naps throughout the day, but overall, it was a much better day. 

Our plan for getting back to Boston involved someone driving us to the airport (2 hours away) and dropping us off. This changed a little on Saturday night, when the forecast started calling for ice and snow. To get to the airport, we were going to have to drive through the mountains, and we started wondering if we needed to readjust our plans to drive Sunday night (before the ice coated the mountains), rather than Monday morning. We made plans, hoping that it wouldn't really be necessary.

Around 2:00 am Sunday morning, I heard more rustlings in the hallway, and when we awoke a few hours later, we found that Brad's parents and the family friend had all succumbed and were down for the count. Obviously, this meant that we had to keep Claire away from everyone and readjust our getting-to-the-airport plans. 

Sidenote: I started panicking about Claire getting the Scourge. There were quite a few calls to my pediatrician dad. I was imagining Claire getting the virus (she's never had one before) and being sick for the entire journey to Boston. On a plane! I had Brad stock us up on pediatric rehydration salts, and I packed about a bazillion extra diapers and wipes and spare outfits. I also started quarantining her toys. You can roll your eyes and say "first-time mom," if you'd like, but honestly, I'm like this in my life without kids, too. I do not mess around with airplane preparedness. Why would I- with the horrible luck I have with air travel? 

So, Brad and I ended up renting a car to take ourselves to South Carolina to the airport. We also ended up having to leave without anyone getting to give Claire hugs and kisses, which I felt bad about, but we were on high-alert. It was rather an anti-climactic ending to our glorious Southern Stint. But, what can you do other than get in your rental car, drive to South Carolina, get Chick-Fil-A as your final breakfast, and get to the airport? You know...to have a myriad of things go wrong, of course.