"Yeah, pinworms. My mom and I saw a program on TV about them. Apparently, an itchy heiny is one of the symptoms," said my friend, Sarah.
I'd been complaining to her about waking up five times that night by my 3.5 year old, who had an itchy heiny, and my 18 month old who had an upset stomach.
I immediately googled "pinworms in children" and uttered a low, guttural "uuhhhmyyyygaaawwwd...."
I read to Sarah, "Umm... according to webmd... Most people get pinworms by swallowing the worms' eggs. This happens when someone with pinworms scratches around the anus, gets eggs on his or her hands (or under the fingernails), and touches you or a surface that you later touch."
"EWWW!" she screamed.
"Oh, it gets worse--When eggs get on your hands or food and then you eat, the eggs go into your mouth. And they move into your stomach and then to your rectal area. So Henry ATE pinworm eggs? Oh, no, Sarah. OOOOOOhhh nooooooo."
"What?!?" she asked.
"'THE EGGS TURN INTO WORMS IN ABOUT A MONTH! A PINWORM CRAWLS OUT OF THE BODY AT NIGHT AND LAYS EGGS ON THE SKIN AROUND THE ANUS. THE WIGGLING MOTION IS WHEN THE WORM LAYS EGGS, WHICH MAY IRRITATE THE SKIN AND CAUSE ITCHING!!!"
Needless to say, we both screamed, and I hung up to call the pediatrician, but not before texting my Monkee friend, Hollis, an emergency text:
Then, I did what any mom would do. I got in the shower and cried. And I scrubbed myself harder than that time in college when a frat guy threw me in a mud pit filled with mud, beer, vomit, and God knows what else (I don't want to talk about it).
It was straight out of The Crying Game. Or Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, whichever one you're more familiar.
I wish I could say that this is where the story ends. Henry got worms, we got the medicine-- WAHOO! My messy beautiful!
False. False, my friend. You should sit down.
The next day, I took my two viral cesspools to the doctor. First up was Palmer. Palmer had been waking up for the past two nights with icky poopy diapers. Like, seeping out the diaper, all over the sheets blowouts. It was like something out of a crime scene, only instead of blood, there was poop everywhere.
The doctor took one look at him and diagnosed norovirus. According to the CDC, "you can become infected with norovirus by accidentally getting stool or vomit from infected people in your mouth."
Are you seeing a pattern here? Because I am...
Next up was Henry. She examined his heiny and gasped at how red it was. (Let the record show, that this is not the first time I've surprised the pediatrician, and it's bound not to be the last).
"Now this, I'm not sure about" she said in her Polish accent, which is not what you want to hear from a pediatrician, fancy accent or not. "We'd better test for pinworms and strep."
SKkkkkkkkkkkkkrt.
"Excuse me? Strep?" I asked.
"Yes, strep" she said as if I'd just asked her who the cutest New Kids on the Block member is. (I mean, Joey, obviously.)
"I don't...I mean...how do you...?"
"It's strep. Just not in the throat" she replied. "We're going to have to test for both. The lab will let you know in a couple of days what the results are." She handed me a clear plastic tube with a sticky spatula inside it. "The nurse will explain how to harvest the eggs"
I'm not kidding you, people, my jaw dropped. Tears formed in my eyes. The nurse's mouth was moving, but all I heard was
"At night [Charlie Brown's teacher's voice]
Flashlight [plane landing]
Spatula on the anus [pin drop]"
I mean... what. just. happened? Norovirus? Strep butt? HARVESTING PINWORMS?
I swear I'm going to reel this story in here in just a minute, but first Ryan and I decided the soundtrack for this portion of our life would best be depicted with "We Only Come Out at Night" by Smashing Pumpkins playing in the background, so if you would be so kind.
Since I had no idea what I was supposed to do with the sticky spatula thingy, I gizoogled it rather than googled it because I felt like if anything could lighten the mood, a little gizoogle could. According to gizoogle, I needed to:
- Big up tha instructions given wit tha slide. Collect tha sample at night afta yo' lil pimp has been asleep fo' a minute or first thang up in tha mornin when yo' lil pimp wakes up. This is when tha pinworms is most active.
- Don't bathe yo' lil pimp tha night you collect tha sample.
- Take tha slide ta tha lab. Yo crazy-ass childz doctorz crib will call you wit tha thangs up in dis biatch.
SO, I figured that's why I needed the flashlight. I googled pinworm images to know what I was looking for and--STOP. Stop. Don't google it. Trust me. You don't want to see this. I am never going to look at orzo pasta the same.
Anyways, I'm not going to go into too much detail on what happened next, but let's just say that it involved splitting my oldest son's cheeks apart whilst holding a flashlight in my mouth and pressing a sticky wand on his heiny.
And here's the kicker. I did it all for nothing because SURPRISE!!! Henry had strep butt the whole time, not pinworms. Joke's on you, mom!
I'm not going to lie, I was NOT going to participate in this because I couldn't see the beautiful in this mess, but fast forward to Palm Sunday.
Ryan and I finally got ourselves to church since our children had exorcised their respective demons. We were enjoying a quiet moment for once (because you KNOW our kids were in the nursery) and my pastor said something that struck me. He said our hour of glory was when Christ was on the cross dying for our sins because of what came after his death. Without the death, there could have been no resurrection.
It made me realize, that if my life were not messy, I wouldn't see the beautiful. If my kids were healthy all of the time, I wouldn't appreciate their health. I have friends whose children are diagnosed with severe illnesses. Hollis's own nephew just had major surgery and can't walk for months. And here I am kvetching about my kids when some of my friends are desperately trying to have them. Reading some of the Messy Beautiful stories about childless mothers is enough to make me want to shut the front door.
We are all entitled to have moments when we just can't take it anymore, but the more experienced I get at life, the more I realize that it's the moments that bring us to our knees (like digging for pinworms) that make us appreciate the moments that make us jump for joy all the more. It's because of the mess that we can appreciate the beautiful.
But I'm still getting a maid.
