Pre-Vacation Jitters No. 6

This is your last warning...it's about to get nasty.

It was probably only 2 or 3 minutes later when, with absolutely no warning at all, the grapes reappeared and were suddenly dripping in a vomity mess from the leather back seat of the van onto the floor. My first instinct was to run back with the bowl, which I did with as much speed and stability as I could muster under the circumstances.

We were currently in the “mountainous climb” of our journey and our trusty van swayed methodically right and then left as my husband slowed to take the sharp corners and then accelerated again to get our gutless van up the hills.

I struggled to keep from falling in the lap of my 9 year old who was sitting in one of the middle seats as I made my way back to Jonah. It didn’t take me more than a second to realize that a towel would be of more use to me than a bowl. I set the bowl down on the floor and turned to wobble my way back to the front for my little dish towel. Hopefully, it would be up to the task.

Turning again, now with dish towel in hand, I worked my way back to the mess waiting for me the back seat. I was silently furious with myself for letting Jonah eat so many grapes, but even more upset that my perfect barf-catching record was decimated. So much for the Mom Olympics! My only thought now was quickly making the back seat barf mess disappear. I stepped once, bracing myself against the swerve of our car as it took another mountain switch back turn.

When I stepped again, my foot came forward, making contact with the partially full barf bowl, sending it flying. In the next split second, barf splattered, hitting my 2 middle-row sons, me, of course, and every obscure nook and cranny of carpet, leather and plastic in a two and a half foot radius.

Still trying to remain upright as our van continued its climb through the Cascade Mountain Range, my mind was blank. This was so far out of the realm of what I imagined I would face and deal with as a mother, I couldn’t quite figure out where to begin. Instead, I let out a few “ughs, ewws, ohs” and one well placed, “my shoes!”