Last week, I took Bronson and Marcus to the park, where we met up with a friend and her son, who is Bronson’s age. It was a hot day and the park was packed with people getting in a little more fun before it was time for all school aged kiddies to go back to school. The park was filled with laughing, whining, yelling and that was just from the parents.
After the kids were tired out, we decided to take them to get lunch and ice cream. I won’t name the restaurant, but it was kid friendly, with great ice cream, terrible food and worse service. The two older boys wanted to sit next to each other, so we allowed it, with Marcus in a high chair. I always let Bronson order his own drink, and he always orders chocolate milk. After it finally arrives, he drinks about half immediately. I have to ask him to slow down (easy on the Pepsi, Fuller!) and wait for his lunch (whenever that might arrive). I have a few animal crackers on hand, because god forbid Marcus is not eating…with both hands. As my friend and I are talking, Bronson coughs, with a little extra noise after, kind of like a squish. Cough::squish:: Cough::squish:: Dread fills my belly and before my brain can compute the horror that my heart already knows, I’m on my feet across the booth with my hands out. Just in time to CATCH the vomit spewing forth from my son’s mouth. Why?? WHY did I catch it? How was that helpful?? HOW?! Now we are BOTH covered in vomit, which reeks of sweet, acidic, chocolate milk. That smell is seared in my brain, and if I never smell it again, it will be too soon!
Now, I need to clean off my hands, my child, the table and of course, the floor. (What food establishment, especially a kid friendly establishment, has carpet?? How the hell do I get curdled chocolate milk off the carpet?). After going through my entire pack of wipes and some of my friend’s, the worst is over. Still no waitress by the way. My friend attempts to hunt her down so we can get the check and the food to go. She also has the smarts to ask for a plastic bag so I can put the wipe carnage away and possibly decrease the stench. As I’m cleaning my child and the restaurant, an older woman from a table a few down is casting me some looks. At first, I think its pity, because you know, chocolate milk vomit but no. After a bit, I realize she seems disgusted (understandable, because I am too) but also angry. I was confused by her reaction. I did not take a sick child out to a public place! I don’t know if the milk went down wrong, if he drank it too fast or simply having chocolate milk after running around in the sun was just not the best idea. My friend said the milk smelled fine so who knows the reason.
I take Bronson to the bathroom and clean us up the best I can. I get back to the table, to see the food has finally arrived. We pay, get our to-go bag and all but run out. We get to the car and I strip Bronson down to his underwear. He looks so sad, so defeated, like someone who is hungover, wearing their rumpled clothes (in this case no clothes), walking the walk of shame. I do my best to reassure him and high tail it out of there.
Marcus is passed out by the time we get home, which is surprising since he did not get lunch yet. I put him down and get Bronson in the bath. When his smell no longer causes me to want to vomit, I get him dried off and dressed. I sit him down with the take out, (of course my order had not one, but two mistakes), then I toss the nasty, regurgitated chocolate milk clothes immediately into the washer. In the meantime, Bronson takes down the entire food order. That order should have fed both boys! Guess he was hungry after emptying his belly!
Who knows what the issue with the milk was but I learned three things that day….
One. Do not let the kids have milk after running around in the sun.
Two. Do NOT try to catch vomit!
Three. No matter how old your kids are, stash a back up of clothes in the car, just in case.