Pride. Yeah, I'll admit I've had some pride. Not in a whole lot of areas, but certainly in one area: sick kids.

NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH

Ever since adorable little Natasha bounced into my world when she came home at age 5 1/2 I have enjoyed good health with my kids. Colds? Okay, but they've been minor. Flu? NEVER. 24 hour bug? Yeah, but usually they were better in 4 hours. A fever? Nope!! Strep?? Are you kidding??? I think Reese has thrown up once, but he did it right in the toilet and hardly complained. Yes, I've had pride. I am such a good mom that my kids are 100% healthy.

But I digress...

Today when I collected Erik from the bus, I put him directly in the van to go to Wal-Mart. Poor little bugger was tired. He did scream off and on all the way to Wal-Mart, but I figured he was just tired (though he hardly ever screams for no reason). Then I wondered if his tummy hurt. Poor little fella probably needed to poo. I put the window down and tried to distract him with the air in his face (he LOOOOOVES air/wind in his face!!). It sort of worked... We got to Wal-Mart and he looked rather stunned. Poor little guy, he's so tired from his big Valentine party at school today! Should I give him a nap or try and keep him up until bedtime...? Something to think about.

I bought stuff here and there, and spent quite awhile looking at paint for the kitchen. Erik was quiet, but okay. Just really tired, poor moppet.

We got to the grocery area and I got a bunch of much-needed stuff. Poor little fella was really tired - he's usually not this cranky! He laid his head on the handlebar thing and I felt so sorry for him. I picked him up and cuddled him and heard a gutteral "uuuuurrrrr!!" and felt warm liquid shoot into my shoulder and down my chest as he started to cry. "Uuuuuuurrrrr!!!!" More puke went ALL over me, him and the floor. I sat him down on the floor. "Uurrrrr!!!!" MORE puke shot across the aisle, a disgusting mass of Spagetti-o's, banana and sweet potato.

"Reese!!!! Get some help!" --but Reese wasn't there!! He was still at school!! What was I to do?!?! I was COVERED in orange vomit, Erik was COVERED in orange vomit, the floor was COVERED in orange vomit - thank GOODNESS the food was okay!!!! I took off his jacket and tried to sop up as much of the stuff off of me as I could, then him. What was I to do?? How do people handle crises like this?!?! I was a "well kid" Mama, remember!?!?! I managed to put him in the basket again, and somewhat carefully rolled up the sickening jacket and told the produce guy who looked like he was going to pass out when he got a look at me. I sprinted over to the clothing area and grabbed the first shirt I saw - I didn't care what it looked like or what size it was - it said "Plus size" and that's all that mattered.

I asked the dressing room clerk if I could just simply change into this shirt and pay for it at check out. She looked at me and tried not to retch - I could see her stomach contract - and quickly (very quickly!) said yes! I left Erik and the cart in the check-in area and went in. I put the shirt on and it looked like I had painted it on. It was TIGHT! What happened to "Plus size"???? I for an INSTANT considered changing back into my shirt to go get a bigger one then almost laughed at myself. The thing was DRENCHED in puke. I'd wear the skin tight top.

(Note to self: big girls should NOT wear tops that look painted on. It's just NOT attractive.)

I quickly wheeled the cart to the front and didn't dare go into one of the regular aisles. Fortunately, the self-check aisles were open, with no waiting and I ran us through check out. I think I lost a gallon of milk somehow on the way to the car, but I didn't care - I wanted OUT of that place and I'm sure anyone following behind us who had a nose with nostrils wanted us out, too.

I have fallen, my friends. I have fallen off of a pedestal I'd set myself on for so many years. The pedestal of "My kids are never sick". Wherefore art thou, Pride?


The story ends less dramatically: we made it home after I stripped Erik almost naked in the parking area (much to his NOT delight) and drove home with the windows open (fortunately, it had warmed up enough that this was not as bad as it seemed). I dropped him immediately into the tub, then washed everything, including our orange-spattered shoes.

If you are looking for a picture to go with this story, you are disgusting - get off my blog.