The best laid plans…

One of the best and worst things about being a parent is the unpredictability of your children.

On the one hand, you never know what they are going to say or do.  On the other hand, you never know what they are going to say or do.  My 3-year old could say something absolutely hilarious or something so embarrassing it’s cringe-worthy at any given moment.  My 1-year old could plant a big wet kiss on my cheek or crap his pants at any time.

This makes driving and long trips with children kind of a crapshoot.  Like today.  The boys and I set out this morning for Birmingham for my mother’s birthday “party”.  Any time a birthday comes up, my MaMaw likes to get everyone together at her house for lunch and cake.  It’s been tradition for my entire life and we all enjoy it.  We don’t get to attend these parties anymore, really, because we live three hours away and either we don’t know about them or we don’t have the time to make the trip over.

Today, though, I loaded the boys up in the car, texted my mother telling her we were on our way, drove through Starbucks, and headed down I-85.  Cole was behaving, Cannon was drowsily enjoying a sippy of milk.  Right before we got to Midtown, however, I heard the sound that strikes fear into every mother’s heart.  That sickening sound of the contents of my baby’s stomach vacating his body through his mouth.  Twice.  I pulled off into Atlantic Station, planning on just doing a quick change of clothes and continuing on our way.  When I got around to the back seat, I just shook my head, got back in the car, and turned back toward home.

It was EVERYWHERE.  All over the child.  All over the car seat.  All over everything.  So much that it puddled between Cannon’s chubby little legs.  I don’t know how it was all able to fit in his stomach.  And the smell.  Milk, Cheerios, and vomit.  It took everything I had in me to not puke myself.  So gross.  And of course he fell asleep in it.

We got back home and I handed the boys off to Zac, and then proceeded to remove the car seat from the car so I could wash it.  Not only was there puke pooled all in the bottom of the seat, it had fallen down through the strap hole and formed a puddle on the actual seat of the car.  Fortunately {and largely thanks to my husband}, we have a miniature car detailing shop in our garage so I was able to find some upholstery cleaner very quickly.  But it takes awhile to get that smell out of anything.  So I’ve got at least a week of a pukey car.  Great.

I’m really disappointed that we didn’t get to go to Birmingham today.  I was looking forward to seeing everyone and being there for my mom’s party.  Cole was so excited to go to Grandmommy’s birthday party, and I hate that he had to be disappointed.  But little brother hasn’t ever had the pukes before so I know he’s not feeling good.  Hopefully he will get to feeling better.

And now he’s pooped himself.  It’s always something, right?

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