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I was fine all week. I was fine all Friday. I was fine for most of Friday night.
And then the Allergy Monster found me. :-/
I had taken the boys to their school's carnival on Friday evening. It was from 5-8pm, and we were there right on the dot. We ate pizza, hot dogs, and nachos, and then we got underway with all the games. Their games were different and so creative! Our old school always held carnivals in the fall, so it was a nice twist of fate for the new school to have theirs in the spring - the boys got two carnivals out of this whole moving deal this year!
At about 7:15, we'd done everything there was to do. Well, almost everything, that is. There was one hallway with three games left on it, but a little boy threw up in the middle of the hallway, and I made the executive decision that we were not venturing further past the smell and ick on the floor. We returned to the entrance of the school to do the very last item: a giant bounce house.
When we walked back outside, we noticed that the sky had turned a dark grey over the past couple hours (it had been clear and bright when we'd entered the school). The boys got in line, and I returned my camera to my car, having parked right near the bounce house. When I joined them in line, it was like someone flicked a giant switch: an intense breeze began blowing, and the air starting whoooooooo-irrrrrring loudly. I turned to the far end of the parking lot to see - literally - a wall of sand from the playgrounds lift from the ground and began barreling our direction, spiraling and turning end over end. I yelled to the boys to, "Face the house, and cover your eyes!" We felt the sandy wind hit our backs and necks, and for the next few moments, we marveled at how quickly the storm had come.
The crowd jumped to action. The bounce house was immediately shut down in the fierce gales, and I directed the boys to the car. Jack wanted to go back inside the school, but with only twenty minutes left of the carnival, plus having already done everything else, I explained that we were trying to beat the impending storm. "It wouldn't be fun to run through rain and lightning to the car later, would it?" We looked straight down at our feet, shielding our eyes from the dirt as we headed to the car. (It never did actually rain, by the way.)
Once home, we bathed and relaxed until bedtime. Once the boys were safely tucked in, I plopped down on the couch to begin labeling photos. Within moments, my nose began feeling... drippy. I added a box of tissues to my couch party and continued on. In another hour's time, I realized I'd been through a substantial number of tissues and that I was currently breathing through my mouth. A bit later, I was also using tissues for my leaky, watery eyes. By the time I went to bed, I was testing my voice out over the running of the bathroom water.
*sigh*
It's very weird to have a such a vividly clear mental picture of "the allergies attacking me." And, of course, I don't know if I might've developed the symptoms later that night anyhow. Regardless, I will forever blame this allergy attack on the rolling debris I saw lift to life and come straight for us.
It should also be noted that A.J. woke up in the same state I did the very next morning: sore, red throat, terrible voice, leaky eyes, and snotting through innumerable tissues. In years past, we've been the only ones to suffer from seasonal allergies in our family, so this only furthers my theory. I think the Allergy Monster didn't feel like waiting in line for the bounce house. *wink*
And then the Allergy Monster found me. :-/
I had taken the boys to their school's carnival on Friday evening. It was from 5-8pm, and we were there right on the dot. We ate pizza, hot dogs, and nachos, and then we got underway with all the games. Their games were different and so creative! Our old school always held carnivals in the fall, so it was a nice twist of fate for the new school to have theirs in the spring - the boys got two carnivals out of this whole moving deal this year!
At about 7:15, we'd done everything there was to do. Well, almost everything, that is. There was one hallway with three games left on it, but a little boy threw up in the middle of the hallway, and I made the executive decision that we were not venturing further past the smell and ick on the floor. We returned to the entrance of the school to do the very last item: a giant bounce house.
When we walked back outside, we noticed that the sky had turned a dark grey over the past couple hours (it had been clear and bright when we'd entered the school). The boys got in line, and I returned my camera to my car, having parked right near the bounce house. When I joined them in line, it was like someone flicked a giant switch: an intense breeze began blowing, and the air starting whoooooooo-irrrrrring loudly. I turned to the far end of the parking lot to see - literally - a wall of sand from the playgrounds lift from the ground and began barreling our direction, spiraling and turning end over end. I yelled to the boys to, "Face the house, and cover your eyes!" We felt the sandy wind hit our backs and necks, and for the next few moments, we marveled at how quickly the storm had come.
The crowd jumped to action. The bounce house was immediately shut down in the fierce gales, and I directed the boys to the car. Jack wanted to go back inside the school, but with only twenty minutes left of the carnival, plus having already done everything else, I explained that we were trying to beat the impending storm. "It wouldn't be fun to run through rain and lightning to the car later, would it?" We looked straight down at our feet, shielding our eyes from the dirt as we headed to the car. (It never did actually rain, by the way.)
Once home, we bathed and relaxed until bedtime. Once the boys were safely tucked in, I plopped down on the couch to begin labeling photos. Within moments, my nose began feeling... drippy. I added a box of tissues to my couch party and continued on. In another hour's time, I realized I'd been through a substantial number of tissues and that I was currently breathing through my mouth. A bit later, I was also using tissues for my leaky, watery eyes. By the time I went to bed, I was testing my voice out over the running of the bathroom water.
*sigh*
It's very weird to have a such a vividly clear mental picture of "the allergies attacking me." And, of course, I don't know if I might've developed the symptoms later that night anyhow. Regardless, I will forever blame this allergy attack on the rolling debris I saw lift to life and come straight for us.
It should also be noted that A.J. woke up in the same state I did the very next morning: sore, red throat, terrible voice, leaky eyes, and snotting through innumerable tissues. In years past, we've been the only ones to suffer from seasonal allergies in our family, so this only furthers my theory. I think the Allergy Monster didn't feel like waiting in line for the bounce house. *wink*
