I turned 29 on Saturday. To celebrate, my mom, step dad, sister and brother-in-law drove two hours to visit. My mom made lasagna and garlic bread and cooked them when she got here. The day was decent. Maeve, for the first time in her life, adored her Aunt Katie and the two of them spent a great deal of time searching for ladybugs and woolly caterpillars.
I was frustrated with Mathew because while he bought me a card, he neglected to sign it, put it in an envelope or even give it to me on my actual birthday. He also didn't have the kids do anything special for me. It wasn't a huge deal, but I only get two days every year where I get to be the center of attention. Pay me my dues please.
So we eat the lasagna. The kids won't touch anything pasta-ish except spaghetti so they didn't eat it. Thank goodness.
Late evening Mathew started getting violently ill. Mine started in the middle of the night. It was awful. I have never been so sick and my stomach still isn't very accepting of food. The kids watched TV all day on Sunday because neither Mathew nor I had the energy to do anything except walk into the bathroom.
The odd thing about it all is that no one else got sick. Just Mathew and me. Did my mother poison us? She was, after all, the person who cooked and served the food. She maintains that there is no possible way we could have gotten food poisoning from her lasagna. We will probably never know the culprit. But I can tell one thing, I won't be eating lasagna anytime soon.