Mt. Vomitus

The Boy's first day of pre-k a few weeks ago was also BeYoYo's birthday, so we went out to eat to celebrate. We always take our kids out to eat on their birthdays. Mother-in-law and Niece met us at La Parilla, our local Mexican place. MIL was holding BeYoYo, and as we walked in she said to me casually "he just threw up." What?? I asked. I looked at the floor and saw vomit. I looked back at him just in time to see him projectile vomit all over a stranger who was walking out. She got caught in the vomital cross fire and stood there with her arms out like she was miming a zombie scarecrow, her face frozen in disgust looking at the vomit running down her shirt.

I grabbed BeYoYo from behind and started running out the door. I was like those action movies where people run from a volcano before it erupts. Only I was also carrying the volcano.

We made it to the sidewalk in time for him to throw up again and again. He spewed with great force and projection. MIL came out behind us and narrated "It looks like milk! It looks like water! What is going on??" At this point he'd thrown up all over the woman leaving the restaurant, created a trail on the floor, and now he and I were also covered in vomit, as was the sidewalk. But the eruption was over. 

I asked him if he was okay. He said no. We sat down on a bench outside amidst some onlookers. MIL said she'd go get something to clean us up with. I didn't know if we had any wipes in the car (classic) so she went inside. We waited. And waited. And waited. He was particularly concerned that my arm was dirty "clean it off, mama!", and that his brand new train had been barfed in. 

I texted the Husband, he didn't answer. I called him and asked where he was. "I'm still waiting on a table" he said. I told him I needed something to clean up with and his mom hadn't returned. He said she'd taken Niece to the bathroom, so he couldn't leave to go to the bathroom, because he NEEDED TO KEEP WAITING ON A TABLE. I told him that BeYoYo and I were vomitus. I thought this was clear based on the fact that everyone just saw him throw up, inside and out. So he continued waiting for a table, and we continued waiting outside. 

The lady he'd vomitted on came outside with her family. She was complaining to her husband "I got off as much as I could, but I'm still COVERED." There was a wet spot on her shirt approximately 3 cubic feet. She didn't realize we were sitting there. I called out to her that I was very sorry about that. She mumbled "tsokay" under her breath. It clearly was not. 

Maybe it had been 15 minutes, or maybe it had been 3 hours, I'm not sure. But hallelujah MIL came out with wet paper towels.  She said "I'm so sorry! I was helping that lady get cleaned off in the bathroom, and I forgot about you! Duh, you needed paper towels." The Husband and The Boy appeared behind her. She handed me the paper towels and continued "That lady was not very nice. She kept saying her shirt was RUINED. I told her she could put it in cold water, and she said 'I live an hour away!'And I know she has kids because she said they're going back to school shopping and now they can't go." I really was so sorry about that. Imagine you're walking out of a restaurant and bam! someone pukes on you. It's like getting slimed on Nickelodeon. 

The Boy, who had just emerged with the rest, asked if he could play with BeYoYo's train now. "No!" I said. "It's got throw up on it!" Then BeYoYo noticed that The Boy had had the other part of the train and he started to yell "My! MY! MY! I hold it!" Here we are, standing on the sidewalk, covered in vomit and arguing about a train, also covered in vomit. 

I started to wipe off BeYoYo's face, and he commented on MIL's horse earrings. She has three horses and he loves them. Then Niece piped up "I fell off Cowboy today." I started wiping vomit off my pants. "I fell off Cowboy today." I was wiping vomit off my arms. "Hey aunt Ruby?" (that's me) "I fell off Cowboy today." Clearly the child was not injured, based on the fact that she was here and upright and requesting steak quesadillas. "You're saying that a lot of times" was the most sympathetic response I could come up with. 

The Husband told The Boy we were leaving. So much for the table they had been waiting on. Then MIL said she and Niece were staying. I told them I'd take BeYoYo home and they could catch a ride with her. She said she hated for him to not get to eat for his birthday, and maybe we could eat outside. We declined, for our sake and everyone else's. They went inside and BeYoYo and I started to head for the car. He was none to happy about that, he wanted his BeBe and he wanted to eat. "I go in der!" he protested. I loaded him up in the car with his new train, which I had also wiped off. 

As soon as we got in the car he said "I crackas" so I gave him some cheez-its. He seemed to be doing okay with those, so we headed home. On the way home he talked and talked and talked. "See dat cow?....See dat bug.....My train.....Pig gon' ride it.....Lalalala......Singing......See dat der?....Mama's car.....I want Bebe.....more crackas......I eat......I MORE CRACKAS." He clearly seemed to be feeling okay. I got him out at home and he said "I more crackas?" I fixed him some more crackas, and he ate 3 servings of pasta. And he was fine as frog's hair. 

After he ate I put him in the bath. He was still bathing when the others returned. MIL and Niece came in the bathroom to sing happy birthday to him and he was majorly impressed. Kid was totally fine ever after. Just needed to throw up on someone and get on with his life.