I hopped in the car with the kids on Monday for a week-long trip to the booming metropolis of Knob Noster, Missouri. Yes, since you asked, we do lead glamorous lives.
Brian is working in Knob Noster all week, and I thought it would be a sanctifying experience if the kids and I joined him there for five days in a military hotel. I woke up with no alarm at 6:30 a.m. on Monday (seriously, that’s a miracle in and of itself) with a list of things I needed to accomplish before our 4:00 p.m. estimated departure. I wanted to wait until after Averi’s nap to hit the road, and I knew I would need every bit of the morning and afternoon to pack for a week in a hotel with two toddlers.
Did I mention it is a one bedroom hotel?
I was shooting for super-sancitifed.
So, at nearly 4:00 p.m. on the nose, the kids and I pulled out of our driveway to begin the two hour trip to Knob Noster.
Yup. Knob Noster.
“Honey, I have to go on a trip for the Air Force, and I thought you may want to go with me.”
“Ugh…I’m so sick of traveling!”
“I know, I know. I promise this will be fun. But…I won’t be able to help you with the kids since I’ll be in class all day and studying all night.”
“No way, that sounds horrible. I’ll pass.”
“We’ll stay in a tiny, one-bedroom hotel room.”
“The answer is no.”
“Wait, I didn’t tell you the best part…it’s in KNOB NOSTER, Missouri!”
“Well…why didn’t you say so?!? That’s a horse of a different color! I’ll start packing!”
I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how our conversation went.
So, while Brian was in his Air Force class all day Monday, I loaded up the kids and all 3,000 pounds of their accoutrements and headed to Knob Noster.
Seriously, it gets funnier every time I write it.
Halfway down the road, I felt my eyelids starting to droop. This is where that 6:30 a.m. thing came to bite me in the behind. I saw an exit sign with a Starbucks logo, and I began to salivate as I thought about that Grande, non-fat, 2-pump peppermint, 2-pump mocha, no whip, no chocolate curls, extra hot, no foam. Kidding, y’all. I’m not that high maintenance.
I let them put on the chocolate curls.
I got off the exit expecting Starbucks to be somewhere, you know, RIGHT OFF THE EXIT. I drove a solid 15 minutes out of the way and never found this phantom location. Not with GPS in my car and my iPhone calling out step-by-step directions.
I blame Siri.
Annoyed and increasingly dreary, I hopped back on the interstate and drove a few more miles. Once again, I came to an exit sign with a Starbucks logo. I was a bit skeptical after the last detour, but I already had my heart set on that Grande, non-fat, 2-pump…you get the idea.
Once again, I drove no less than 5 miles away from the interstate and never found it. Seriously, Starbucks, please stop advertising on interstate signs if you’re going to plop your store location MILES away from it! Please, just take a lesson from Waffle House and park it within 10 yards of the exit ramp.
Now, I know I’ve already taken up a ridiculous amount of your time, but this is where the story gets good…and by “good,” I mean “ironic” and “awful.”
As I made my way back to the interstate for the second time, I heard JJ call out from the back seat, “Mommy…my tummy hurts.”
(Oh, yes. It’s about to get ugly. Please put down your breakfast burrito.)
I looked at him in the mirror and said, “Oh no, honey. Are you okay?”
And that’s when I witnessed something I’ve only seen in Adam Sandler movies. My precious 3-year-old opened his mouth and—like a fire hose—released the most incredible amount of fluid I’ve ever seen.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we just lost my dad.
And, as you can imagine, this was pretty upsetting to a child who 1) has no idea what just happened, 2) hates the idea of being wet, and 3) does not like it when his trains are covered in vomit.
He screamed, “Oh nooooooooooo! What happened?!?!?!?”
I tried to console him as I looked for the nearest available parking lot. “Honey, you’re okay. You just got a little bit sick.”
“Oh nooooooooooo! There’s…stuff on Thomas and Annie and Clarabel [his favorite trains]!”
“Sweetie. You’ll be fine. Just give mommy a minute to pull over into the parking lot of this—oh, you’ve GOT to be kidding me!”
Starbucks. It was a Starbucks. Of course it was.
I jumped out of the car, ran inside and got myself a peppermint mocha.
No I didn’t.
I jumped out of the car and grabbed my stash of emergency items: an old bath towel, paper towels, baby wipes, disinfecting wipes, carpet cleaning wipes, a spare floor mat, scented plastic bags, a change of clothes, and a Piddle Pad.
BOOM! I just dropped an awesome mom bomb.
If I had thought to include rubber gloves and a gas mask in that kit, I would have to ask you all to throw a ticker tape parade in my honor.
[Oh, congratulations for being prepared for ONCE in your entire life.]
I could tell JJ wasn’t super impressed with my preparedness, though he was happy to have a clean place to sit and a change of clothes.
From the Starbucks parking lot, I called Brian and let him know that, though it sounded like bushels of fun, I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to bring our vomiting child to a hotel.
You’re welcome, visitors of Knob Noster.
I jumped back in the driver’s seat of my swagger wagon (which now smelled delightful, I assure you) and stared longingly at the Starbucks in front of me.
Of all the locations to NOT have a drive-through.
I spent the next hour repeating, “Averi, please stop pretending to throw up” and “JJ, are you SURE you don’t want mommy to pull the car over again?” JJ assured me that he felt better and didn’t need to “cough” again.
Until…
We were literally 30 seconds from our house when JJ screamed, “Mommy…I HAVE TO COUGH AGAIN!”
I don’t need to tell you what happened after that. But I will say that I have absolutely no idea how a 35 pound child can offload 20 pounds of fluid in a matter of moments. It was both terrifying and impressive. I wanted to hug him and high-five him at the same time.
(I’m so sorry if you’re eating. If you have a weak stomach, you probably should have stopped reading a long time ago. Like, last year.)
Thankfully, JJ is absolutely fine now. In fact, I believe he has enjoyed the past few days of excessive doting and television. And I have enjoyed the opportunity to thoroughly detail my car.
The moral here is this: NEVER buy a used car seat or minivan from a parent of toddlers. Because it is inhuman the things a child can do to them both.
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[…] you caught Wednesday’s post about our exciting car ride on Monday afternoon, then you can probably guess how the rest of my week has been. I have cleaned up vomit 5 different […]
Oh, poor JJ – I hope he’s feeling better! My best vomit story is when Lulu puked all over Cole; she was spooning him in his twin bed (she is under 2, he’s 4), and apparently fell I’ll in the middle of the night – ALL over him. Poor guy was horrified – and she thinks it’s hysterical, so she’ll wander around fake gagging to make her brother run.
Oh my goodness, that is awful! Thankfully, JJ was too far away from his sister for her to see what had happened. She only heard him and decided to mimic that sound the rest of the way home. Which was super fun for me since I was already a bit gun shy, so to speak.
omg I laugh so hard. But ONLY because I’ve been there… ish. I have to say I’m jealous of your ability to find humor in such situations!
Well, Beth, it’s easier to stay humorous when you’re not dealing with TWIN toddlers. 🙂 Just the thought of that wears me out. Kudos to you!
Oh my goodness! I could not help but laugh! Mainly at the being prepared part: those times were rare for me and did need a ticker tape parade so I DO salute you!!
What a book moms could write on vomit alone.
Why thank you, Karmen! You can be in my parade. 🙂 Oh, and your comment about a vomit book made me laugh. That would be some kind of nasty coffee table book, amIright?
Poor JJ…. poor YOU!!!!
Belle vomitted for the first this week, only she was in the nursery so I kind of dodged the bullet! Granted, I came as soon as I could, but by the time they found me in “big church” and I came down the nursery, they were cleaning her and the floor. Poor Belle thought she had pooped from her mouth. She was so upset. Poor thing. We did extra snuggles too.
I just realized that I am in no way prepared for a potential car-vomit experience. I’m off to go gather supplies.
Those poor nursery workers! I can somehow stomach cleaning up my own kid’s vomit, but ANOTHER KID’S vomit? I don’t think I could do it. I would have jumped in the pulpit and said, “Sorry to interrupt your worship, but we have a code green/brown in the nursery, and we need Amy NOW.”
There is nothing worse than driving down the road while your toddler gets sick…especially when you can’t pull over right away, and you have another toddler in the car saying things like, “she spilled Mommy, she spilled on her carseat!” I definitely need to assemble an emergency kit like yours 🙂
Hey Katy! Nice name! 😉 I have to say I highly recommend an emergency kit. I don’t normally travel with that much stuff, but I will be from this point forward!
Yeah, been there, done that, as the saying goes, but it’s so much funnier from you!!!!! I’ll not tell you my story……well, maybe I will. My brother and I, both adults, were separated from our spouses. Where did we go? To mom’s 2 bedroom house, of course! He, myself and my daughter all in one room (three beds). He wakes up and does the projectile thing clear across the room and covers my daughter (who is 2 at the time). She thought SHE had done something! Funny now, not so much then.
You are the best!
Dona, that is HILARIOUS. And horribly disgusting. And HILARIOUS. Ewwww…
Since I am a mother of a 2-year-old, I am laughing hysterically. Oh, the joys. 🙂 I am super impressed that you had all of the necessary cleaning supplies with you, though!
It is very unusual for me to be THAT prepared. If I hadn’t been packed for a week-long trip to a hotel, I can’t say I would have been. But you can bet I will be that prepared in the future. As a matter of fact, I put some latex gloves in the back of the van just this morning. 🙂
I had to comment to say: I am very impressed with your emergency preparedness! I’m luck to have a few napkins in the glove box and a container of baby wipes. You need a tiara to wear around in public.
Ha! I keep trying to tell people that, Stacy!
I’m feeling a little guilty that I laughed so hard. Been there and I know it’s an ugle cry moment when you’re going through it.
One of my friends was living in a hotel because her husband had taken a job transfer and their house wasn’t quite ready. She was 7 months pg and her four children (ages 7 and under) all got the tummy bug. YUCK!!
Haha, every parent has one of these stories. Mine happened a few weeks ago when my 3 yr old got sick on our carpeted stairs. Got it cleaned up and half hour later I could tell it was coming again. So I picked him up and sprinted for the bathroom.
Just as I entered the bathroom, it happened. And I promptly slid through it in my bare feet and crashed…hard…on my side. Still holding my three year old but we were both half in and half out of the bathtub. I had a huge bruise on my hip and a sore foot after that. He was unharmed thankfully.
The best part was my BFF (and children’s Godmother) was visiting at the time. I went out to the garage to get some supplies to clean it all up and came back to the bathroom to find the floor dry. I thanked my friend for being so kind as to clean up the mess. She looked at me oddly and said, “I didn’t”.
And then I saw the dog sitting there looking quite satisfied with herself.
Disgusting. But helpful. 🙂
Love your blog!