Yesterday, after I picked up Reza from school and headed north to Averyboo in Long Beach. I expected about a three hour car ride. We made a quick pit stop in Del Mar to have the girl's hair cut. Note: Del Mar, SUV, soccer moms cannot drive for living dog shit.
As with any road trip I packed a bunch of snacks. Some nacho chips, raisins, cheese, crackers, cereal bars. This is in case the girl needs something to eat. Around 50 minutes away from the house she is complaining her tummy hurts. I ask her if she needs to take a poop and she says yes, so I pull over. No poo but I got a pee break out of her so I was a-ok. At this point she is telling me she doesn't want to get back in the car. I don't blame her and I know we got a good 90 min ride left. My instinct tells me maybe I should go home if she isn't feeling well, "just turn around Ivonne, they will understand". My instinct said go home, I didn't listen.
We get to Orange County and we had to stop again for the same reasons... this time she dropped a little log and I thought what was the end of it. Woo! I get her back to the car and change her clothes cause she had spilled apple juice all over herself somewhere during the trip.
I get back on the 405, which looks like a slow moving parking lot. It's Friday, rush hour, I am in the useless carpool lane that is backed up just as much as the rest of the lanes. Can I tell you how much I HATE the OC and LA county freeways? Just crossing those county lines makes my blood pressure and anxiety rise to rupturing levels. And then it happens...
Reza is going through a howling and moaning phase and she starts howling. FUCK. You try driving in bumper to bumper with a howling child in the back. FUN. We are at a complete stop and she says, "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO my tummy hurts!!!" and I turn to look at her and in what seems like slow motion, Matrix style scene, I watch her vomit ALL OVER HERSELF. She is pretty much drenched in puke from the neck down, crying, I am in traffic and I FLIP OUT.
I call Josh, hands free thank you very much. "Josh, I got a serious problem!!!". I explain the situation:
1. I am in gridlock, very very far from home
2. I had just put on my last spare outfit on her and she just yakked all over it
3. I am about 10 minutes away from destination
4. how in the hell am I going to clean all this bullshit up??
5. FUCKSHITCOCKSUCKERGODDANMWHYDOESTHISALWAYSHAPPENWHENIAMBYMYSELFFUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He talked me down and in a nice way basically said, "snap the fuck out of it and deal woman. DEAL WITH IT". He didn't say that, but I know how Josh operates and he knows how I operate. If he can get me to simmer the hell down, the mother hen kicks in and I handle my shit.
How I managed to get from lane 5 to 1 in gridlock, with a screaming kid without hitting anyone? Don't ask. The entire moment was a BLUR. It felt like when you do the walk of shame back to your car, youre thinking to yourself, "who was that fool? why x 3? where is my car? and my god, why does my mouth taste like a cat shit in it?". Again, BLUR.
Plan of action! Find a Target/Walmart, buy her some new clothes, get some shit to clean the car, clean her up in the bathroom, clean the car.
So I get to Target, get out and assess the situation. Somehow she managed to puke in a way that it only landed on her and in the car seat. Thank jeebus cause I happened to be in the Volvo, Josh would have been sad bastard if that business ended up on the carpet. Either way, leather seats for the win!
I get her out, strip her butt naked, wrap her up in my hoodie, threw her in a cart while I proceeded to scoop CHUNKS OF PUKE out with my hand. You don't want to know what thrown up raisins, nachos and juice looked like. If this did not cement my utter hatred and disdain for raisins, I don't know what will. It was not pretty. Her underwear were DRENCHED, the only dry part of her were her socks. Subsequently, this lady gave me the total stink eye while this happened.
Word to the wise, if you see someone stripping their crying three year old and you got to see a small glimpse of nudity, IT'S FOR A REASON. You think I take my kid out and strip her in Target parking lots for FUN? You think I am doing it for her discomfort or my entertainment? FUCK OFF, DIE IN A FIRE AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. It is astonishing to me how quick people are to judge when they know nothing about the scenario. I had a total "punch the grandma moment" where I visualized myself flinging a gob of vomit chunk at her, just like monkeys and shit at the zoo. Looking back on it, I should have.
Anyway, we roll into Target, I sponge bathe her in the bathroom, get her in some clean clothes and cleaned out the car seat. I lined the car seat in towels, got her some 7-Up and bagged up a Target bag full of puked clothes and towels.
At this point what the hell do I do? She is clean and as it appeared, it was only car sickness cause the entire time she was in Target it was like nothing ever happened. My biggest moral dilemma was I was headed to a kids art center and if for some reason this was more than car sickness I don't want to expose other kids. So I called Natalie and she talked me into coming anyway.
Wise choice cause she needed to be out of the car, shit so did I and the idea of getting back in the car to do another 3 hours home was enough to make me want to rip out my pancreas (thank you LA traffic!). She had a very good time, as did I. Subsequently, it was nice to see my stuff hung up on a wall. (the tree stump sold to a very excited girl who loved my work).
Moral of the story:
If you have kids, carry a damn "bodily fluid explosion" kit. Clothes, towels, anti-bac wipes, plastic bags, febreeze, in the trunk of your car. Bee told me to do this years ago and I didn't listen... I heard her in my head saying, "I TOLD YOU SO" as I was scooping chunks of chewed up raisins with my hands. mmmmm, tasty.
So, when you think you got it bad, when you think you are having a "fuck my life" moment, think of this to kinda put shit in perspective.
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