It’s 11am on Sunday. Usually I’m at church manning two preschool classrooms. Today I’m sitting on my couch as Lydia, Asa and Les all take a nap. I’m also listening to the washing machine which is full of Lydia’s carseat pads. Yes, I’m washing them because we had our first car-vomit.
All morning Lydia was sleepy. She sucked her thumb, laid on the floor and was generally listless. We finally got into the car (late) where she ate a breakfast of grapes and cheese (I’m sorry, we were running late!). We were about 2 miles from church and I look back to see Lydia throwing up. But not just a little spit up. Oh no. It was like a horror movie, yall. It was a fountain of vomit.
Les pulled over, I jumped out of the car and yanked her out of the carseat. I ran with her to the side of the road where she is still throwing up. She had it all in her hair, down her dress and who knows where else. I pulled her dress off (effectively wiping it all over her face) and then used the dry parts of the dress to clean her up. (Did I mention she had grapes for breakfast?)
And where is my loving hubby? Oh, he’s celebrating Father’s Day by gagging and dry heaving next the car. SERIOUSLY.
So, I let the two of them sit in the front seat while I get on the sidewalk with a water bottle and a sock (it’s all I could find) to wipe the carseat out. I swear I was out there for ten minutes. I finally had to take half the cushions off and throw them in the trunk. Just thinking about those grapes makes me shudder.
I put her back in the un-padded carseat (wearing only her Elmo panties) and we drive home. About five minutes from our house, she starts screaming, “STOP THE CAR, MOMMY!” We were at a red light, so I jumped out and pulled my puking, naked child to the side of the road. She was absolutely covered in vomit. She was crying and finally wailed, “WHY ME?!” (Which makes me laugh and cry at the same time!)
I was standing on the corner of the intersection watching cars drive by (including my husband) and realized I had no way to clean up my daughter. So, I did what any mother would do…I took off my shirt. Thankfully I had a tank top underneath…a flesh colored, too-tight and way too short tank top, but a tank top nonetheless.
I wiped her off and walked across the street to where my husband was parked with a very tired Asa. We finally made it home, dumped Lydia in the bathtub, I nursed Asa (did I mention I have a plugged duct?!) and then got everyone back in the bed. I went outside to survey the carseat damage. I took it apart piece by piece, sprayed it down with some all-purpose cleaner and then set it in the sun to dry. Hopefully I can remember how to put it back together again.
Now I’ve scrubbed myself down, changed clothes and am sitting on my couch hoping everyone sleeps for at least an hour.
Like I said, Happy Father’s Day to me.
ps…the best part of the whole thing is that I twittered it. When I got home I checked my twitter replies and my in-real-life friend Alicia responded with this:
The more I think about it, the funnier it is…