March 14, 2010

Puke-a-Palooza

Woke up this morning, loaded the kids up in the car, and headed to the Georgia Aquarium. I always drive, and the Expert funnels pancakes to the kids in the back. Six minutes down the road, we've started unpacking the pancakes, and I hear a low rumble from the backseat, and then the terrifying sound of a puking child.


Like any crazed mother, I stop in the middle of the road (nice), but then manage to pull over. James is covered in what appears to be cottage cheese, but is really the result of the milk he drank mixing with his stomach acid. (Also, nice).

He's a total mess. We pull him out of the car. Like any ridiculously unprepared mother... I have absolutely no napkins/papertowels/substantial amounts of wipes. I have no change of clothes for the kid. Nothing. We're wiping him down with a half roll of toilet paper I found under the seat, and he's crying. His poor doggy is covered in the mess (and I can report, was sadly left behind... but that dog could not be fixed after that shower). After a decently acceptable wiping down, he seems to feel better, so we head down the road to Target. I buy a new change of clothes for James, a roll of paper towels, wipes, bandaids, hand sanitizer, bottled water, vitamin water - all for the car - and I feel more prepared. We clean him up properly, change his clothes in the parking lot, funnel some vitamin water in him, and head down to the aquarium.


About thirty minutes later, we creep up to the aquarium, and James is squealing: Fish! Shark! Whales! Penguins! Otters! Sharks! Whales! Crabs! Stella is grinning, and I think we've salvaged the day.


Pulling into the parking deck, I hear a familiar rumbling from the backseat: holy crap. James upchucks again. This time, it's the pancakes and the vitamin water, and it's about ten times the amount as before. Well, like the prepared mother I am, I now have paper towels, water, wipes... just forgot to buy two changes of clothes. After the cleanup, the kid is stripped down to his diaper, covered up in my coat, and we head home. He's clearly disappointed, but after the scene from the Exorcist, he seems to understand we've gotta leave.


Halfway home, I hear it again. This time it's coming from the other carseat... this is some sort of joke. Stella's now covered in the familiar mess. The Expert and I look at each other, and really, there's nothing left to say. The smell is now overwhelming. We pull into Taco Bell, use the remainder of my prepared mother supplies. Speed home, fearing the next one.


Thankfully, that was the end of it. I put the kids in jammies at one o'clock, just in case. But the rest of the day was puke-less. Only thing I can figure - we had a bout of bad milk. Either that or that blasted hidden camera was following us around again, and some evil producer slipped my kids some bad fish.

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