Sunday, December 13, 2009
It has turned into a kind of tradition for our family to drive around the city and look at the lights people have put on their houses. We always look forward to this and were very excited to take Emily this year since she is now old enough to be semi-interested in them. So, Friday night was the night. We decided to go all out so first Kerry, Emily, Grandma Bonnie and I went to Shogun for dinner. Then we set out to see this lights. Kerry took us to a very expensive neighborhood off Hurstbourne Lane and we had a good time for about fifteen minutes. Emily started getting fussy, but we shrugged it off thinking it was getting close to her bed time. Then it happened. I heard this horrible gagging and retching noise coming from the backseat. A split second after that I heard Grandma Bonnie's laments of horror. I turned around just in time to see the horrible most horrible substance I have ever seen spewing from Emily's mouth. Then it happened again. Then again. Now, I can change dirty diapers all day long and never bat an eye, but I just cannot, I say CANNOT deal with vomit. Seeing it was bad enough, but once the smell hit. Let's just say I bore an uncanny resemblance to a sick dog hanging it's head out the car window. Needless to say, we made a beeline for home. Now, a nanosecond before the spewing began, Kerry had reached his hand back from the driver's seat to pat Emily's leg and attempt to comfort her. His hand was covered in the disgusting stuff. Thus, he had to drive the whole way home with one arm stretched into the backseat. Once we finally made it home, we different even try to take Emily out of her vomit covered carseat. We decided the best course of action was to unhook the seat from the car and carry the seat (with Emily still in it) into the bathroom. As Kerry hosed down the kid, I undertook the job of disassembling the carseat so the cloth part could be thrown in the washing machine - which I did with careless abandon. In restrospect, as I think about how long it took to reassemble that darn contraption, perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to where all those straps and harnesses went. Once the smelly kid was bathed and all vomit-covered attire in the washing machine (accompanied by at least a half gallon of Gain detergent - I wasn't taking any chances on the smell returning), we covered the floor in her room with towels just in case there was another act to this drama and put our little puke machine to bed. I am very thankful to report that the vomit was a solidary incident. We may try again to go look at Christmas lights, but then again, we just may consider that tradition "fouled up" for this year.