The Flash Craft Challenge Party That Wasn’t

Okay, peeps.

When last I posted (about Chica’s field trip) on Friday evening, I wasn’t quite ready to share about the rest of our day.

At least, not without a whole lotta four-letter words.

But I’ve had the weekend to sort through things in m’brain, and get rid of all the angst (well, mostly), so I can fill you in on our Friday that went off the rails.

So…if you’ll recall, the week prior, we were all set for our 2nd annual, Flash Craft Challenge party, and the kiddos were pumped. And not just mine; their friends, as well!

The crafts were ready, the food was purchased. I hadn’t quite finalized some of the odds and ends, and it’s a good thing, because…on Thursday, Little Man tested positive, and we had to cancel the whole shebang.

It was a major bummer, all parties were upset, it took a whole heckuva lot of communication with about 20 families to get word out regarding the cancellation. And, of course, on top of all of that, we had our poor boy down and out, and fears the flu would make its way through the household.

Needless to say, I was less than eager to try and reschedule, and vowed only to do so at the last minute, if everyone appeared in stable health.

Lo and behold…by Wednesday evening, when we were 48 hours from our hoped-for rescheduled party, I sat the kiddos down at the kitchen table and peppered them with 20 questions:

Do you all feel okay?

Does anybody’s throat hurt?

Does anybody’s stomach hurt?

Does anybody feel hot?

Who’s had friends out sick?

Are you sure you’re all feeling okay???

Needless to say, I got a whole lot of we’re fine, everybody’s fine, nobody feels bad. And, hysterically, Little Man looked me dead in the eye and said: “You better schedule this party quick, before anybody else gets sick.” Ha.

I mean…from the mouths of babes, right?

With no small bit of trepidation, I agreed to set things in motion again, sat down to fire off a ton of messages to a ton of people, and we were back in business.

I spent Thursday cleaning my tushy off (because I wasn’t willing to do so before then, lest plans fall apart and my effort be wasted). I did the final (redone) round of shopping for the fresh fruit and what not, the nugget platters were ordered, the crafts were in place and ready to go.

And then Friday morning, I put the finishing touches on it all: moving unnecessary furniture, arranging plates and hot chocolate cups and every last canvas bag for coloring. It was all set, as I had to head off for Chica’s field trip and wouldn’t return home until shortly before the party. 

And then…less than a half hour into the field trip, as we were roaming the grounds of the Mission at the behest of our tour guide, I saw on my silenced phone that the school was calling.

And I felt the fear.

A whole lotta fear.

Needless to say…I couldn’t pick up my phone in the middle of the tour, so I decided to wait until a voicemail came through, with the hopes that one never would.

Delusional, of course.

A couple minutes later, I was able to click on the transcription of the VM and see the words, “Hi, there, this is Nurse So-And-So and I’ve got Chicklet in the clinic here with a fever.” And I felt like throwing up. And saying a WHOLE LOTTA bad, bad words. And maybe throwing my phone in front of a whole elementary school of 5th graders—including my eldest, who was looking at me with concern when I had to mouth that sissy was at the school nurse.

Just…UGH. Ugh, ugh, UUUUUUUUGH.

I had to excuse myself, call the nurse, verify the situation: chills, fever, loss of color…bad, bad, very bad. I knew immediately in my Mama gut: more flu.

After the call with the nurse, I hot-dialed the hubby, set things in motion for his departure from work to grab our poor, sick girl, and get her in, stat, for some viral testing, so we could know what we were up against.

Bless his heart, he came through and had her at urgent care, results in hand within an hour and a half. And, yup…flu.

UUUUUUUUUUUGH.

In addition to the call from the school nurse while I was away on the field trip, I also received a call from Chicklet’s incredible dyslexia specialist, who was the one to identify Chicklet’s downward spiral of health and get her to the nurse.

This amazing teacher was already aware of the party plans, and did her very best to console a crying Chicklet who not only felt terrible, but also felt terrible about a potential cancelation of the party. So the two of them were pretty much an emotional duo as they made their way to the school clinic—or so this lovely teacher shared.

I mean…broken hearts. Heinous timing. And worse, still—MORE CANCELLATION NOTIFICATIONS TO SEND OUT.

I mean…for the love.

Of course, poor Chica had the misfortune of seeing it all play out, in real time, on the field trip.

And if you can believe the coincidence, Little Man happened to be walking close to the school’s reception area on an errand when the hubby was there picking up Chicklet, so he also saw it all playing out in real time, as well.

In fact, a mom friend of mine, who was y here volunteering and witnessed the whole thing, shared with me by text how Little Man’s face just fell when he connected all the dots.

Talk about a kick in the nuts, if I may be so crass.

The hubby did his best to get a nauseous, very ill Chicklet home and in bed. I made it through my chaperoning duties and then sat in the parking lot of the Mission, shooting off text after text to notify parents, ASAP. And by the time I picked Chica and Little Man up from school, we were all just grumpy, cranky, angry sad sacks. And we kind of agreed to just stay that way for the night. :(

Poor, poor Chicklet slept most of the evening away and was so weak I had to hop in the shower with her to wash her hair because she could barely stand.

And then I spent the evening wallowing and putting the fun away.

And can I just say: the only thing worse than cleaning up after a party is packing away an entire one that never got to happen—twice over.

But, hey—if I want to be positive (which I really, really don’t; at least, not yet), I suppose I have a whole party in these two boxes for next year. Wah-wahhhh.



Unfortunately, this was our last shot at a reschedule, as this coming Friday is the last day of school (therefore, all the class parties) in addition to our neighborhood holiday party. Then everyone scatters to the wind for holiday break.

And, honestly, I’d have to be a bit certifiable to try—and probably fail—a THIRD TIME.

It just wasn’t meant to be, this year. :(



The hubby tried to be optimistic and say we could try just after the New Year, but honestly, that ain’t happening.

I think we need to get well and truly past the winter and this really terrible season of viruses that has plagued so many families like ours.

Then, perhaps in the Spring, when spirits and immunities are stronger, I’ll think about another go, with a different crafty approach.

The saddest part about all of this isn’t actually the wasted time, money or effort. Or even the disappointment of the kiddos. It’s the loss of memories made. Last year was just a raucous, joyful event, that left a positive impression on us and so many friends, and I was soooooo looking forward to enabling that again this year.

These are precious holidays, and it’s hard to see one pass, alongside opportunities lost.

But…you can’t say we didn’t try.

So…onward and upward with this final week of school, I suppose.

Poor Chicklet is recovering much slower than Little Man with this flu, so she’ll be home with me again tomorrow.

But where’s hoping we can get on some sort of even keel, soon.

More mañana, peeps.

Over and out.