Friday, January 18, 2013

Once Again: Why I Don't Take The Boys Out In Public Very Often

I thought to myself, as I pulled up the third-row seats of our SUV to drive some extra kids for Ethan's field trip, wow it's super dirty back here. I really need to clean this, along with the rest of the car.

You know, Fate, or Karma, or whatever the hell you're called, I wasn't asking for any extra motivation to clean the damn car.


Yesterday, Ethan's class (and the other four first grade classes in his school) took a field trip to a children's museum about 40 miles away, 20 of which are curvy and windy. Since I have a weird thing about strangers driving my kids, I signed up to drive and take some extra kids. Siblings were allowed to go, so I took Connor and Brandon, too, mainly since I didn't want to put out any family by asking them to babysit.

And, because why not add a couple more kids to the mass chaos that a multi-class museum trip was already going to be?

The night before we went, I packed hand sanitizer and sanitizing wipes in the backpack, and tried to pack away my raging paranoia that the boys were going to pick up every virus possible at the petri dish of a museum. I also made sure to go to bed early and get a lot of sleep because I knew it was going to be an exhausting day.

I had no idea just how much.

At the school, we had extra drivers, so Ethan's teacher assigned a mom and her kid, and another student to my car. The mom's son and the other student rode in the third row of my car, and the mom was up front with me.

About halfway through the trip, I started to smell a faint puke smell here and there, but no one said they had thrown up, and we hadn't heard anyone throw up, so I didn't think much of it. About ten minutes away from the museum, Ethan complained that his tummy hurt. The kid has never been carsick, in fact, he has never even thrown up before (outside of the profuse acid reflux spitting up as a baby), so I figured he was either hungry or had to poop (yay, motherhood).

We got to the museum, and when I opened the back hatch to let the other boys out, the smell of vomit hit me like a tidal wave. One look at the dried puke on the face of the son of the mom who rode with me made it obvious what happened: somehow he had quietly thrown up and never told us. And the poor kid sitting next to him had to endure the stench the entire rest of the way, and as soon as he got out of the car, he walked away and started gagging and drooling and was close to throwing up himself.

This was starting out to be a great trip.

As we were dealing with this, Ethan, who was standing in the parking lot behind the car, suddenly started vomiting. Profusely. Jesus. It was like some sick comedy where there's a puke-domino effect and before you know it, everyone's puking. So I was frantically looking around, trying to figure out who was going to start throwing up next, wondering what the hell was happening and why everyone was puking.

Since he had never thrown up before, Ethan was completely freaked out and actually asked me if he was dying. It was pathetic but kind of funny, because I find humor in totally inappropriate things. It's a coping mechanism. While trying not to laugh, I assured him that he wasn't dying.

All the other parents and kids were arriving during this puke clusterfuck, so everyone got to see this amazing display and of course started assuming that the boys had the flu and understandably began treating us like lepers. After a massive clean-up job (in which I was extra grateful for all the sanitizer and wipes that I had packed, as well as the plastic bags I always keep in the car), and after the pukers were asked several hundred questions by several people, it was determined that because they felt better, they had just gotten carsick, so off we went. We stopped at the bathrooms first, to wash hands and faces.

As we were going through all of the areas of the museum, Ethan kept sitting down on benches and saying he was tired. I'm prone to motion sickness and know how it can totally wipe you out, so I just told him to sit and relax whenever he felt like it. Meanwhile, I watched my other boys touch everything in sight, and caught Brandon wrapping his lips around a water spout in the water works area, AND sticking his tongue in a pool of disgusting, chlorine-filled (hopefully) water in said area, lapping it up like a dog.

I swear to God, I have no idea what the hell is wrong with that kid. He can't be right in the head.

By the time we were done picking up every virus and bacterial infection possible and ready to go outside for lunch, Ethan was over it. He barely ate, and was just laying on the ground like the passed-out bums that proliferate my town. This was not like him. It started to creep into my mind that maybe he actually was sick. The kid whose only real illness in his 6+ years of life was a case of viral pink eye that freakishly took him down like a meningitis victim, might actually be sick.

I told his teacher that I needed to get him home, while silently swallowing my profound guilt that I let him into an area with a thousand kids, thinking that he was only motion sick.  We punted off the other student to another mom, and the mom that came with me wanted to get home to get her kid out of his pukey clothes, so she came back with us (that kid was totally fine, by the way, he really had just gotten carsick). I dropped her off at her house and was four minutes from home when Ethan suddenly leaned over and puked all over himself and the floor of the car.


Poor guy and all that crap, but now I definitely had a sick kid AND two puke clean-up jobs. I mean, basically, now the car was a TOTAL PUKE-MOBILE. We got home, and I handed the boys over to Nate and then spent the next hour before he went to work cleaning up the car. 

So, thank you, Fate, or Karma or Shitty Whatever, for so graciously ensuring that I was given ample opportunity to follow through with my, wow it's super dirty back here. I really need to clean this, along with the rest of the car thought that I had six hours earlier. THANK Fuck YOU.

And, I'd sincerely like to apologize for having two disgusting puke stories this week. That wasn't intentional, as at the time of my post on Monday, I sadly did not know the future. I had to write about the recent event so I could emotionally purge it, so, sorry. Thanks for sticking with me anyway. I'd also like to point out that I literally made a comment on a previous post this week in which I mentioned that Ethan has never thrown up before, outside of his reflux as a baby. So Jinx, you can go suck a big one, along with the other guys.

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  1. Wow. now I feel carsick. And I'm just sitting at a desk. :-)

  2. Delicious images you conjured up. I sometimes feel like writing is akin to throwing your insides, it must be luck that gave you actual vomit as a topic! Yep, you are so lucky.

  3. That's gross, yet sort of hilarious in an "I know that's going to happen to me one day" kinda' way.

  4. ugh for about 6 months when my oldest was between 18mos and 2 yrs old, she got sick almost EVERY TIME she was in a car. I cannot deal with vomit. It was awful. Oh and for added fun, she drank A LOT of strawberry milk at this time. Thanks grandma for that treat. So the barf was always gnarly spoiled milk smell and bright pink. Luckily I haven't had the issue with either of my 2 boys at this point.

    1. Too bad the strawberry milk didn't make it pretty and smell good, like it SOUNDS like it should... ;-)

  5. Sheesh! Sounds like a pretty bad way for karma to remind you to clean your car! Hope Ethan is feeling better!


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