My little boy had not been feeling well for a couple days. He had an ear infection and a fever and had been on antibiotics for three days. Anyway, we had been housebound for two days due to an ice storm. Now, the roads were finally clear and we wanted to go out to dinner. There is a small Mexican restaurant that is pretty close to neighborhood. We figured it would be open and we would not have to spend too much time on the roads.
We arrived at the restaurant and got out of the car. My two year old was dragging his feet and barely moving. It was pretty chilly, so I bent down and picked him up so we could get inside quickly. Once inside, the hostess walked us to a booth. My daughter slide in the booth while I waited for a high chair for the little man. My husband was standing beside me and we both heard a very wet burp. We both shot each other a weird look and then I felt something hit my neck and chest. I was still standing up, holding my son and he was throwing up down my v-neck shirt. I was in absolute shock as I looked at the hostess who handed me a bunch of napkins. I apologized to the hostess and looked at my husband and frantically said that we had to go. My husband told me to run to the bathroom and they would wait for us outside.
I ran toward the bathroom and he got me again. I was still holding him tight and he, once again, aimed right down my shirt. I was covered in vomit and was almost to the bathroom when he got me the third time. The vomit was now all over my jacket, my shirt, and my chest. My bra was full of puke and it was now running down, across my belly button, and into the top of my jeans. I could just feel the hot vomit running down my body as I grabbed paper towels and tried to wipe my clothes off. I was standing there hot, wet, and completely grossed out, just trying to wrap my head around had had just happened. This was like some bad college flashback; this was like the worlds worst date! Anyway, the puke was just soaking in to my pretty purple fleece, so I just wiped off my sons poor little face and left the bathroom. I was looking for a back door so that I did not have to walk back into the main dining room covered in barf. I mean nothing makes you want to eat a big old plate of refried beans like a mother and son covered in chocolately milk vomit. Someone helped me open a back door and I ran out to the car.
We were close to the house and nobody was on the road, so I just got in the front seat holding the puker on my lap. My husband took off the little guys jacket and put the seat belt across us both. My little man was eerily still as he sat on me with his head on my shoulder. My husband had the defroster on and the entire car started to smell like spoiled milk and hot vomit. I told him to turn it off so that the baby does not blow again. We were almost home and my daughter started saying “It smells so bad! I’m starting to feel sick!” I told my husband to “step on it!”
We pulled in the garage and my husband put the door down while I stripped. I had to take off every single article of clothing. I had baby barf in everything from my panties and bra to my Ferragamo loafers. My hubby took off the little man’s clothes and the baby and I took a naked walk through the house, all the way to my shower. I scrubbed the vomit off of myself and washed it out of my hair while the baby played with the hand held shower head. He sprayed everything he could find and made a terrible mess, but I was so focused on getting clean that I did not care. I finally washed his hair and my husband walked in to tell me that he was taking our daughter to pick up some Italian food. He helped me dry off the baby while I got dressed. I decided to keep him up since it was still early and I wanted to see if he was going to blow again. My son was still sleeping in his crib. It is a solid wood crib that weighs over 250 pounds. The crib is hard to move and has very tall, curved sides which are hard to clean, so I decided to put up the air bed for us to sleep on. I brought up the portable DVD player and put on a movie trying to keep him still whiled I made stacks of clean sheets, towels, pj’s, and pillows – just in case. I finally got a chance to stop moving and I sat on the air bed watching my little man. I could barely believe how much had just happened in the last hour and twenty minutes. I was sitting there hungry (because I never got dinner), tired, and wondering if other mom’s had ever been barfed on in a Mexican restaurant. At this moment, I was only sure of one thing – Parenthood is No Fiesta! I really wanted a margarita!