Brady and I took a lovely trip to Pittsburgh to visit my family last weekend. We stayed with my mom who was awesome and got up with Brady every morning and let me sleep! We went to the Carnegie Science Center with my sister and her boyfriend and Brady had an awesome time playing in the water area. We even had brunch with all of my family and a bunch of our friends. It was a very good trip overall.
We were on our way to the airport on Monday morning when it happened. Thankfully I was driving and my mother was sitting in the back with Brady. The two of them were dancing to the radio when I heard “blech” and then my mom, “um, don’t get upset, but he just threw up.”
So of course I got very upset and got tears in my eyes and then he threw up some more. Once he stopped, my mother got a cloth and started cleaning him up which upset him far more than the actual vomiting did. She did her best, but there was still puke ALL OVER his coat. The only coat we had with us.
So we got to the airport and I headed straight to the bathroom where I opened the suitcase to find him a new outfit. By this time I also had puke all over my coat and we both smelled like nasty banana vomit. So I changed Brady and then went to work on the coats so that they wouldn’t reek on the plane.
As I was trying to wipe off the coats, Brady was running around the bathroom like a madman and trying to unpack the suitcase. I was pleading with him to please calm down and let me finish and everytime I caught him and tried to hold him or put him in the stroller he screamed his head off. Other women in the bathroom were looking at me like, “why is she yelling at that cute little boy?” and talking to Brady in cute little voices as I tried in vain to clean or contain him.
It was a fun experience. Eventually we got on the plane, stashed our stinky coats in the overhead and Brady passed out on my lap. I spent the flight munching my snacks and watching America’s Best Dance Crew (thank you JetBlue). When we arrived at JFK, my mother-in-law was waiting for us and had parked close enough to the door that we never had to put on the offensive coats again.
I feel like a real mother now. I have dealt with throwup. Although, I do think it’s funny that my mother ended up cleaning up my kid’s first puke. Doesn’t quite seem fair, does it?