Well, fellow mothers. The day has come. After many months spent dreading this one inevitable parenting moment, it finally happened. It was bad. It was worse that I had imagined. And if you are a parent, you might have an idea of what I’m referring to here. Maybe it’s even happened to you.
Yup. You got it. My kid puked ALLLLLL over the backseat of my car.
When my husband and I were deciding whether or not we should have a baby, we had a lot of fears. Were we ready? Would we be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child? Were we financial stable enough? And most importantly, what the fuck would we do if our kid puked? Who would clean that shit up???
Vomit is by far my worst fear in life. Just thinking about barfing makes me want to barf. I swear, I was scarred for life after watching that scene in The Sandlot where the kids are blowing chunks at the carnival after chewing tobacco. Screw being afraid of “The Beast,” that puking was more horrifying than anything I had ever seen in my eight-year-old life. I’m actually nauseous just thinking about it.
So back to my gruesome story. Last week, we were invited over to our friend’s house for a play date. My son was acting totally normal. Happy. Fine. No indication of what was to come. He was playing contently in his car seat, chugging apple juice (yeah……. It wasn’t the last time I was going to see that apple juice). He started getting pretty obnoxious towards the end of our drive, so I told him to settle down. He screamed once or twice, which was weird… I peeked in my rearview mirror but he looked fine. As we were pulling into my girlfriend’s neighborhood, I heard him yell that his stomach hurt. God, I wish I took that comment seriously. Within moments, he was hurling apple juice all over himself, the car seat, and the back seat of my car.
Luckily, we were almost in my friend’s driveway when this all went down. I’m pretty sure I had at least three minutes of complete parenting shock. I might have momentarily blacked out while trying to decide how to the hell to handle this situation. I jumped out of my car, called my friend from the driveway, and yelled at her to come outside with supplies – I needed bags, wipes, paper towels, cleaning supplies, etc. (You know your friend is a good person when you make that kind of phone call and they actually come outside with all said supplies, no questions asked).
I cleaned everything up as much as I could without tossing my own cookies, plopped my son into the extra car seat that I just happened to have in my car that day (THANK GOD), and prayed to sweet Jesus that we would make it home before he puked again.
It was an intense drive home. I’m fairly certain that I ran at least three red lights and drove twice the speed limit. In my defense, there are two times that breaking traffic laws are totally acceptable: 1) when you are on your way to hospital with your wife who is in active labor and 2) when your kid is losing his lunch in the backseat of your car. And yes, I’m fully prepared to defend that in a court of law.
Thankfully, we made it home before my kid decided to engage in round two of ralphing. Actually, it turned out that his puking was a one hit wonder (THANK GOD). I spent the remainder of the day with nose plugs and rubber gloves, attempting to clean out the car seat and the back seat of my car, which is really an entirely different post of its own. FYI – assembling, washing, and reassembling a car seat is pretty much comparable to cracking the Da Vinci Code.
So all in all, we both survived (although my son and I are both equally traumatized). I’m pretty sure throwing up was one of the most confusing and scary experiences for my two year old (AND me). He will most likely talk about the back seat barfing every single day for the next six months and I have will nightmares about it for a similar time frame. I was lucky to have made it two and a half years vomit-free and I will spend every day praying to the parenting gods that it doesn’t happen again anytime soon.
And if it does, hopefully it will happen on Daddy’s watch.