January birthday parties in particular typically come with something extra...

Disease.

So I left off last Thursday, saying I was about to head out to pick up Grandchild Nine from pre-school. Which I did.

I wasn't exactly on time... but I wasn't so late that the school felt it necessary to notify Younger Daughter or her husband, Olaf. Actually, Nine said that he wasn't even the last kid to be picked up. Only next to last... but I will take my triumphs when I can.

My instructions were to bring Nine to Younger Daughter's House. What was to transpire thereafter was at first a trifle vague, but, ultimately, I wound up staying there for a few hours, during which time Olaf dropped off Grandchild One from her pulmonologist's appointment, scooped up the new puppy, and headed off to the vet.

Olaf returned from the vet about the same time that Younger Daughter came home with Grandchild Four. I had asked for instructions about giving my charges lunch -- they did not have a slice of bread in the house for sandwiches, so, with Long Suffering Spouse's permission, I volunteered to take One and Nine back to my house and feed them. We have bread. But neither Younger Daughter nor Olaf responded to my request for authorization to pull up stakes... even when I promised to bring them right back.

Whatever.

I did my duty and got my lunch when I returned home. Around 3:00 p.m. Just before I would have to pick up Long Suffering Spouse.

Four's adenoid surgery was, initially, the only complication known for the weekend. It was hoped, however, that Four would rally in time to go to the family January birthday party. Birthdays party?

Three of our grandchildren were born in the first month of the year: Grandson Seven (Younger Daughter's older boy), Granddaughter Eight (Middle Son's second born) and, celebrating his very first birthday, Grandson Fourteen (Youngest Son's younger boy). Middle Son, his wife Margaret, and their five children now reside in Michigan, an hour or so outside Detroit, so a degree of planning is required for any Curmudgeon family event. And a certain amount of good luck, too: Even if everyone stays healthy, coming around Lake Michigan in January can be somewhat hazardous. That's where most of our lake-effect snow goes... somewhere from Gary to Benton Harbor... depending on the wind direction. The entire area is not usually subject to heavy snowfalls all at the same time; the snow comes off the lake in bands of varying width. Buffalo may have it worse, but driving through a lake effect snow squall in Indiana or Michigan can be blinding at best. And very scary. A bad weather forecast would result in the party being cancelled, or at least rescheduled.

But the weather forecast seemed promising. Cold -- a real arctic blast by the end of the holiday weekend -- but not snowy.

Younger Daughter and Youngest Son both volunteered to host the party at their respective houses. By some process that did not involve me, Youngest Son's house in the western suburbs was chosen as the venue. Middle Son would arrange for catering. Younger Daughter would bring the birthday cakes and party bags.

(If you're wondering, all we were asked to do was bring a vegetable tray... but Long Suffering Spouse decided to make cookies for the party, too.)

It seemed a good thing that Youngest Son and Danica were hosting, too, when, on Friday morning, Younger Daughter disclosed that Grandchild One -- you know, the one I was watching just the day before? -- had woken up with a temperature of 102.8.

There was a scramble to find out what virus had felled One: She tested negative for Covid, Flu A, Flu B, and strep. If it had been one of these, Birthday Boy Seven and all his siblings and Long Suffering Spouse and I would all be forced to cancel. But since it was nothing identifiable... well, the question was still open for discussion.

All I cared about was that Middle Son was properly notified before he set out Saturday morning. When I talked with Older Daughter Friday, she seemed not to know about One's bug. So I flat-out asked Younger Daughter is she'd actually warned her brother.

She was mad at me for even suggesting that this might not have happened. When she calmed down, Younger Daughter told me that she and Margaret had decided that those kids who had gone to school on Friday could go to the party, unless they had become actively ill in the meantime.

This may have explained why Older Daughter was being coy when I'd spoken with her on Friday: Her youngest daughter, Grandchild Six, had been kept home from school on Thursday because she had some bug or another. I wasn't exposed, at this point, to Six's bug. But (guessing before she learned about the Friday school rule) she had decided to hold Six out on Friday as well. Older Daughter was most insistent that Six was much improved on Friday: She was eating like a Hobbit, Older Daughter told me, scarfing down two breakfasts at least.

And so Middle Son and his brood came in. His youngest, the twins Twelve and Thirteen, had runny noses, but they are teething. Seven and Nine came with Younger Daughter (One and Four -- who was not recovering as fast as had been hoped from her surgery -- did not).

The party went off well enough. With all the presents for the three birthdays it looked like Christmas. Fourteen's older brother, Eleven, kept trying to open his brother's stuff, but he's two and you wouldn't expect anything else. Seven seemed to run down a bit, at one point, but he rallied instantly when his uncle put on video games on the basement TV.

Sunday, Middle Son and his brood came over to our house after early Mass. Youngest Son came along a little later -- his boys had slept in and he was not going to rush them. Older Daughter's oldest, Grandchild Two, had an indoor soccer game Sunday morning, but she and her mom and dad and her sisters, Three and Six, came by in the afternoon and everyone stayed well into the evening. (Yes, if you're keeping score at home, we provided breakfast, lunch, and dinner during the course of the day....) Younger Daughter and her brood did not make an appearance; then again, Younger Daughter had to work Sunday afternoon, so it was not a surprise.

The surprise came later: Seven, who'd been at Youngest Son's house for the birthday party -- after all, he was one of the honorees -- had a 105 degree temperature Sunday night. Not a typo. 105.

Eleven had a low-grade fever yesterday, too. And Danica is not pleased. She's had to cancel some plans today on account of Eleven's condition and (I think) she may feel that her husband's siblings and their respective spouses were not entirely forthcoming with regard to the risk of contagion. She will learn, in the fullness of time, that everybody gets sick in the winter, especially once the kids start school or day care. There's not much anyone can do about it. I'm pretty sure that's what happened to poor One: This is her first year in middle school -- hence, a whole new set of germs to spread. Next year, Two will be in middle school for the first time and she will probably have more than her share of creeping crud come next winter.

Curmudgeon family gatherings will be increasingly difficult for some time, as the grandkids age up.

Younger Daughter was very upset about the unexpected illnesses that played havoc with our party plans, too, and I don't blame her.

But here's the awkward truth: With any luck at all, my grandkids can look forward to decades of parties with their cousins. My kids should likewise be able to enjoy each other's company for many years to come. As bad as one of the kids or grandkids feels about having to pass on a party because of illness, it's much, much more difficult for Long Suffering Spouse and me. I hope we may yet have several more good years... but the actuarial tables are starting to turn against us.

So we went to the party Saturday and we hosted on Sunday because we know this can't last forever. Even though we know there will be consequences: Long Suffering Spouse started in with a bit of a dry, unproductive cough a few days ago. She never acknowledged illness, of course: As long as she can attain verticality, she's healthy enough, in her view. As long as she's actually breathing there's no way she'd get sent home from school. The cough got worse over the weekend, but the kids and the grandkids didn't hear it. She's got a sore throat today and various aches and pains, but it's below zero outside, and it could be the weather, you know. It's certainly a contributing factor. But she's at school today, teaching as if nothing were amiss.

I had been entirely fine all weekend and in the days leading up thereto. My cough started in last evening. I slept badly last night and feel worse today. I cancelled my dental appointment today because it probably isn't a good thing to hack up a long while the hygenist is stabbing at my gums. I wish everyone could stay healthy... and then I wake up.