MOTHER'S DAY "SPA" SPECIAL

"Make sure Mom feels like a queen this Mother’s Day. Skip the flowers and jewelry! Instead, treat her to a memory she won’t forget." - so says Elizabeth Arden Red Door Spa

My "spa day" started off in the early hours of Saturday morning, with me taking some much needed alone time in the luxury accommodations of the master bathroom in Evie's grandparent's cabin.  

There's no delicate way to say this, so here goes: I spent approximately eight hours up-chucking... or praying to the porcelain gods, barking at ants, heaving, tossing cookies, and hugging the throne if you prefer those descriptions. In medical terms, I was in full "emesis" for the entire night.

Evie's Dadda heard the lovely noises coming from the bathroom and came in to comfort me about 5 AM, at which time I pointed to the iPad in my bag and grunted, "Google. Food poisoning. Pregnancy."  

Yes, I am well aware that anytime you look up a symptom and add "pregnancy" to it, the likely response will be "Go see a doctor. Go NOW, you stubborn idiot!!"

I was secretly hoping that Google would make some magic homeopathic remedy for food poisoning appear - one that possibly involved administering a back and foot massage, cold glass of milk, breath mints, possibly duct tape (since it fixes everything), and eating a massive scoop of Nutella if I was really lucky.

No such luck.

And then the cramps started.

Not the oh-I'm-gonna-throw-up-or-poop-my-pants kind of stomach cramps. Instead, the type of cramping that almost all females over the age of 12 get once a month.  Yup, definitely time to see a doctor and make sure the baby was okay.

Around 7:30 AM the rest of the group was kind enough to wake up and get their first terrifying glimpse of Catherine-the-Unholy-Vomit-Queen.  Upon learning that I had been up all night and could keep absolutely nothing down, Uncle Battle generously offered to take me to the West Georgia Health Center Emergency Room.

So, off we went.

Just like a spa, right?
I had a quiet room, my own TV, and a call button to push in case I needed someone to wait on me hand and foot - or even hand me a new barf bag.  
(Yes, I know we keep it classy with our narratives around here.)
My "spa technicians" were Nurse Sallie and Nurse Danielle. 
For some extra special pampering, Dr. Nichols came in for the personalized treatment package... all for the bargain price of a $100 copay! Beat that, Spa Sydell!

My new Mother's Day jewelry.
Forget diamonds, rubies, or sapphires - this VIP bracelet gets you an all-access pass to any bodily scans that your little myogenic muscular organ could desire.

Instead of the external pampering and usual skincare/hydration that a typical day spa would have done --  I was on the receiving end of some internal hydration. Thanks to an IV saline drip, some heavy doses of anti-nausea medications, and a few glasses of ice chips served in stylish white Styrofoam cups, I was well on my way to recovery.

Throw in some paperwork, blood and urine tests, a few uncomfortable conversations like "No, he's not the father, he's actually the uncle - and, yes, he can sign for me," and you've got the perfect day of pampering!

Once I was pumped full of saline, the "spa technicians" kindly gave me a release to go home a few hours later - or in actuality, "home" to the grandparent's cabin.

When we returned to the house, I informed Evie and Dadda that although I looked and felt like death, I wasn't going to die. More importantly,  the baby was okay, and I was going to take a very long nap and they should not disturb me unless the house was on fire - and even if it was on fire, they should first try to put the fire OUT, and only then could they disturb me if their fire extinguishing methods didn't work.

Being the perfect angels that Evie and Dadda are, they complied with my requests.  To be perfectly honest, I don't think either one really cared about leaving me for an extended "quiet time" on the couch -  since there were toys, horses, doggies, and ATVs to play with outside. With so many distractions, I think they were very capable of keeping their minds off of sick Momma. 

Grandaddy lets Evie try her bareback balancing skills on Aggie.

Hmm.. maybe we should stick with the little ponies. I don't think her legs are long enough for the big guys just yet.

"If I can get on you, I know I can ride you!"

Yup, that's Uncle Battle. He was my EMT and ambulance driver for the day.
And no, he didn't wear this to the hospital. Thank God.

While Dadda and Evie played outside, Momma Peach got to snooze on the couch all day and suck down 64-ounces of lime green Gatorade (the classic go-to sick drink since early childhood). What more could a pampered mom ask for on Mother's Day?

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, I was feeling less like I had been in a head-on collision with an 18-wheel tractor trailer truck and more like I had been in hit-and-run with a small Vespa.  

We decided to at least try to accomplish one thing that had been on my Mother's Day "to-do" list, so we took a quick day trip to Callaway Gardens.  Uncle Battle, Michelle, and Gabba Gabba were going to hit the bike trails for a while, while the rest of us (Dadda, myself, and Evie) were going the lower-impact route of driving around to some of the sites - thus, letting me stay in the cool confines of an air-conditioned vehicle and nursing my handy Gatorade bottle.

Michelle, Battle, and the munchkin.
I highly doubt Battle will ever be featured in a flattering outfit on this blog.

Butterflies at the Butterfly Center!

Causing a turtle feeding-frenzy.

Really, really wanting to jump in the lake.

Sickness aside, I did have a good Mother's Day. My hubby and kiddo were nice to me and I was (unexpectedly) granted a lot of relaxation time.  We sent flowers to Nana in Rhode Island, Evie got to play with Gabba Gabba, and she talked to Nana on Skype on Sunday evening.

Also, I am now the owner of 7 baby chicks, who are soon to be residents of a new chicken coop in our backyard that we are in the process of building.  Better yet, Dadda had a pair of Evie's favorite baby shoes bronzed for me so that I now have a sweet keepsake of our little lady's first "real" shoes.

Nevertheless, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed that next Mother's Day won't be as exciting -- or involve medical co-pays of any kind.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you - I hope it was a happy and healthy one! 

PS- I did call the restaurant to report that I possibly received food poisoning from their food while dining there Friday night. I was very disappointed in their response. Although I expected them to be defensive about their food, I was hoping they would be slightly responsive (and responsible!) in at least taking note of my call and checking into their food preparation practices.

I really didn't expect to be called a liar by the restaurant manager.  I was told that I must be mistaken and have gotten sick from something else I ate.  I was able to recount everything I had eaten 72 hours prior and both the ER doctor and I were fairly certain that it was something in their entree that I had. 

You can bet that I will never be dining at Frank's Italian Restaurant again.