So it started out like any other Thursday. We got the baby up, we got the toddler up, Daddy took the toddler out to breakfast, which sounds as though we'd have some quiet time at home, but we do have a pretty loud baby, so, no such luck. But this is normal. Again, like any other Thursday.
I wanted to run some errands and wanted to put Ansley in the big kid part of the shopping cart at Target, for a few reasons - she's been doing a great job at sitting up lately and I had a bunch of stuff to get and didn't think I could fit it all in the seat part up top and underneath. She was acting a little crabby and didn't want to take her nap so we took off.
I kept telling her that I wanted her to stay awake until we got to Target and then she could take a little nap on the way home. She did. And she continued to be a little crabby, even through her brand new vantage point in the top of the cart. I thought for sure she'd be excited. She was indifferent. Maybe even a little annoyed.
So she complained and I kept telling her about how much fun we were having and all of a sudden, in the middle of the accent rug aisle, as I was trying to decide between an $8.99 synthetic feeling rug vs. a $14.99 more natural feeling rug that may come apart after a month of feet walking on it, she spits up. Oopsie. Just a little bit. It's ok. Oh shit. There's more. Ok. It's ok, it's ok. And it just keeps coming. And all I can do is just stand there and watch in horror as she barfs all over herself - her shirt and her little skinny jeans and all over the inside of the shopping cart insert, making a little puddle. After what seemed like an eternity, that was probably no longer than a minute or so, she was done and put out her bottom lip and told me again about how she didn't feel good (but felt much better now, thank you). And I'm standing there and I'm completely dumfounded. I really have no idea what to do. Six months into my second kid and this has never happened to me before. My cart has all kinds of stuff in it - I've got jumbo packages of toilet paper and paper towels shoved underneath, I've got hand weights and a stability ball and pajamas for Ayden and some M&Ms for Nishant and I ask her to just be quiet for just a second so I can think about what I'm going to do next.
Did I mention that I didn't have my diaper bag with me? Of course I didn't. I'm a pro at this thing and we were only going to be out for a minute. I had a spare cloth diaper and some actual diapers and some wipes. Had I been quicker on my feet, maybe I could have gotten her to barf directly into a diaper for easy clean up and disposal but I think I would have to be some kind of mom ninja to pull that off. So I think about it for the split second that I have and decide that I have to just leave. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. There's vomit everywhere. I can't pull her out of the seat because then vomit will get all over me and probably drip all over the floor. So in an effort to contain it, I pull out the entire cart insert, with her inside, and prop it up on my hip. Then I stand there and look at my cart full of stuff. I can't wait in line, I can't get it in my car. But I also can't just leave it here in the accent rug aisle. Ok, so the plan is to get out as quickly as possible and as soon as I see someone that works there to give them the quick story so I'm not that jerk that just left my cart full of stuff.
So I'm walking and I'm starting to feel a wet spot on my sleeve. I have no idea what it looks like from the outside. I can only imagine a big smelly wet spot, that's growing. Time is of the essence. Must get to the car, now. Finally, I see someone working the fitting rooms next to the ladies section. She sort of attempts to ask me if I need help, I'm assuming from the look of sheer panic on my face and I push the cart over towards her one handed and tell her, "I have to leave, right now. She threw up all over the place. I just have to leave. I can't put any of my stuff back. I just wanted to make sure I told someone." And then basically I just turned and fled and didn't give her the opportunity to tell me that wasn't ok.
And then I get to the car and realize I don't have anything else to help the situation - no extra clothes, no blankets, no nothing. What kind of amateur doesn't have anything like that in the car? Jesus. So I lay her out in the back and get off everything that's been barfed on, which leaves her in her diaper and socks. I'm standing there in the parking lot. Think. Think. What can I do? I remember one time when Ayden threw up in the car and after he went through his spare outfit I ended up putting him in my tank top, somehow. So I take off my shirt, since I have on two and start to try to put it on her and it's so ridiculous that I take it back off and try to think of a way I can inconspicuously remove my tank top without standing in the Target parking lot in my bra on New Year's Eve. No way. So I stick her back in her carseat as is, in her diaper and socks and cover her up with my shirt, as a blanket. Poor little thing was happy as a clam the whole way home.
So, that was my day - how was yours?
