There is nothing like bringing in a Starbucks cup full of vomit to help cure your caffeine addiction. Luckily, this on-the-go projectile puke fall which resulted in this aromatic to-go carrier surprise was not a result of a stomach bug. While I always appreciate the seductive benefits of the get-fit-fast weight loss involved in the familial bonding of stomach flu, the memories of puking over the shoulder of my simultaneously puking children (and sometimes missing…sorry junior), while “maintaining” (note the quotes) work and the demands of, well, life, is enough to make me grateful for my steady (alright…climbing) numbers on the scale. No, luckily (?)this mobile retch-massacre was the result of epic levels of sugar consumption (yes…like that urban myth you hear mother’s warn their children about in old movies, but didn’t believe was based in science), combined with one last, much-needed car seat snack (Goldfish crackers, to balance out the food pyramid. Perfectly sized for the trachea, I might add.) , and one too many bounces for even my wildest of children…who I somehow forgot has asthma when searching for a reason why she was suddenly hacking up a lung (Oh Yeah. Duh! Did you know you are supposed to follow the prescription on the inhaler EVERY day, even on those busy ones?). And while the Starbucks cup was a champion at preserving the overall smell and aesthetics of the evening, I cannot tell you that the car seat survived the party. On the bright side, while cleaning out the scene (we’re talking garden hose level clean-up people), I managed to find an entire serving of old Cheerios, at least a half-dollar in change, and enough choke-hazard sized toys to entertain my kids for days (hey…maybe THAT is why she puked). My husband said it best when he said, “Maybe kid-puke is nature’s way of letting you know that it is time to deep-clean the car seats.” Well said husband (who was conducting the all-to-important job of hazardous waste removal (me) supervision and critique (him). Sometimes I think that man should write a book of Parenting Proverbs. With all this said, I am still abundantly thankful for the incredible DVIA Winter Jubilee that helped facilitate this sugar-induced, hyper-active asthma attack vomit. I am overjoyed that God made my little fireball a fantastic gag-reflex to help counteract my ever-failing parenting decisions. I am grateful for no fever, no stomach bug to inherit, and no need for a bedside puke-ball. And yes, David Vokoun, I am happy to strap my child into the cleanest car seat she has had in months. It is all about how you frame it people.
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