The unmistakable sound of puking in the back seat

I couldn't think of a really good title for this entry, but this was accurate.

There is nothing like planning a nice little 'for the children' outing and having it go dreadfully wrong with a van-full of puking kids. We were going to Fright Fest at Six Flags to cap off the weekend o' fun for the youngsters. About a quarter of the way to meet my mom in Fort Worth and I hear the unmistakable sound of that cough that precedes the urp and then the sound that terrorizes every mother - the gag followed by liquid and the previous night's dinner hitting the floor, the door and whatever else was in the way.

I heard the cough and looked in the rearview mirror to ask Child No. 1 if he was ok. No, he replied, followed by the whoosh of vomit whacking the sliding door and carpet of my minivan. We make a quick pullover to the side and he finishes puking out toward the interstate as traffic whizzes by. Child No. 2 is instructed to crawl into the back end of the car and retrieve the towels I keep stashed back there for just such emergencies.

Are you ok?

Yeah, I think so.

Are you done puking?

Yeah.

He had whimpered a bit about a tummy ache, but we thought it was because he hadn't eaten yet. He insists that he still wants to go to Six Flags, so on we trek.

Hey mom!

What?

I have good news. When I puked, I didn't get any of it on my books.

Great. Wish I could say the same for mom's car. I didn't say that. I just thought it. On we drive. We've just gotten off the Interstate and exited to go meet my mom when Child No. 2 starts telling me that his throat his hurting. First instinct is that he is 5 and maybe he is urping in preparation of adding his mixture to the vomitous smell in the car. But, no he insists that his throat hurts and not his stomach. So, I offer him a cough drop. He declines and then that sound heard minutes before is repeated.

Only he doesn't have the skill to direct his puke away from his body. He proceeds to spew all down his shirt, shorts and socks and on his booster seat. Great. I only have a couple of more towels not used from the previous performance. So, here we are in the parking lot of an antique mall stripping the child down to his Star Wars underwear because he is soaked with barf. He is pale and wants to go home. I'm trying to keep good spirits at this point. We trek on to meet my mom. In typical sadistic granny fashion, she laughs hysterically when I told her what happened. We proceed to get McDonald's to see if some chicken nuggets and sprite can settle their stomachs. Mom and I visit in the car briefly before we hit the road on the way home.

Note to self: a hamburger and fries on an already upset stomach is not a good idea. About a quarter of the way home, that already familiar sound begins to repeat itself from right behind my head. I veer right across three lanes of traffic and hit an exit to a gas station to let Child No. 1 finish puking into the Shell parking lot while I start scraping the remnants of Mickey D's from my floorboard. This child has a pattern of puking on the way to theme parks. He did this about four years ago on the way to Disney World, too. Even with our little back windows open all day at the Magic Kingdom, the car smelled like puke for DAYS after that.

When I got home today, I opened up the doors to the car, scraped the carpet again, febreezed the vicinity and cracked the garage door a bit so the puke smell wouldn't waft around in my garage either.

The boys have camped out in the front room floor and watched Yugioh and Space Jam for the better part of the day. They're asking for food now, but I'm not sure about giving them any. Don't want them regurgitating it all up in the house.

*Knock on wood* child No. 3 hasn't started spewing yet. I'm holding out hope that she misses this bug.