The Angry Kid has her heart set on taking me someplace she loves for Mother's Day. I, on the other hand, had my heart set on Indian food. In an attempt to make everyone happy, the Angry Baker took us to a wonderful, tiny little Indian place for dinner tonight.
You'll notice that it's 7:30, and here I am blogging. (Cue the shark music.)
The Angry Kid began complaining of belly pain about five minutes before we headed out the door. We didn't believe her. We all piled into the car and headed to the restaurant. The kid fell asleep on the way there. (Shark music is getting louder.)
At the restaurant the kid cuddled on my lap, and we ordered food. At this point I still thought this was a hunger/pooping issue, and encouraged her to drink a little water. (Dum DUM dum DUM dum DUM...)
The food came, and oh my it was amazing. (Ellesiouville denizens, email me and I will tell you the hole-in-the-wall of which I speak.) I took one bite, and the kid started struggling in my arms, cheeks in the blowfish position. We rushed for what I hoped desperately was a restroom and, just a foot and a half shy of the door, she unloaded about a gallon of partially digested hot dog onto the floor. But she wasn't done: the second wave hit the wall next to the ladies' room door.
Our server came running out of the kitchen. I apologized profusely and asked him to pack up our meal. The only other diners were also parents; I apologized to them as well, but they just laughed. The Angry Baker was on his hands and knees for about 10 minutes scooping up blech with paper towels from the men's room. We left a very large tip.
Let me count the ways this is all my fault: 1) It was my idea to buy hot dogs for lunch from a roach wagon. 2) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" at home. 3) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" in the car. 4) I didn't give up my dream of Indian food when she complained of feeling "really sick" in the restaurant. I only got what I deserved.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
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12 comments:
Ooh, that blows. (No pun intended.)
I hope your Indian food was still delicious at home. There's no appetite suppressant like the smell of kid barf, that's for sure.
We've become surprisingly tough. Even after cleaning it up inches from it for 10 straight minutes, and AP hanging with the kid for the duration , we still brought it home and enjoyed it immensely.
Oof. I've been on both ends of that situation, and it's zero fun from either one. That sucks.
Maybe you could reschedule Mother's Day. Call it Mother-Daughter Day and celebrate not having food poisoning together!
Cut yourself a bit of slack. This happens to every parent at least once. For me it is usually on a day when I send my kid to school because I felt I couldn't take off work. One day I dropped Norbert at school, drove to work, and just as I was pulling into the garage, I got a call from school saying he was throwing up. Projectile. On the walls, on the floors, on people. I, too, felt like liquified poop.
Ours happened at the beach. Finishing a lovely dinner; told younger son to finish what was left of his brother's milk (even though he doesn't like milk); actually said out loud, "Half a cub of milk isn't going to kill you." Immediately upon exiting restaurant he says, "I'm gonna puke." Goes to curb and does so. He felt fine afterwards; I was the one wallowing in guilt.
wv = lthfimub: Yep, that what it feels like.
J'accuse!
LSU is not in a square state -- damning evidence that your blog contains deliberate disinformation. I conclude, therefore, that that is not your photo, that you are in fact very attractive and happy too!
K
P.S. K is just someone who enjoys your blog and whose sense of silliness isn't quite exhausted by teaching statistics to Juniors at another LSU.
Somehow I never threw up in public when I was a kid and have no kids of my own yet. I have, however, had two rather embarrassing experiences as an adult.
Sorry to hear about your evening, AP. Don't feel too bad.
Would have done the same thing. So sorry about the outcome though.
I second Aidan's comment. You can't anticipate everything.
All the components of moming in one day - Happy Mother's Day!
After 19 years of child rearing I can say with some authority that it's not truly Mother's Day unless you are actively engaged in actual mothering. Most children will do anything possible to delay the ear infection, projectile vomitting, or explosive diarrha until the second Sunday in May. My children have long since exhausted the old standards and are working on more inventive illnesses. Sunday afternoon in the ER with a child covered in hives was my most current Mother's Day surprise.
Cause, you know, the huge buffet dinner Angry Kid wanted would REALLY have helped that upset stomach.
Poor kid. Puking in public is no fun. Poor Prof. Getting covered in puke is no fun. Also--credit to dad for scrubbing puke! Hope everyone feels better...
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