Eric and I hit the nine year milestone in our marriage last week. With three kids in tow, our celebration options were somewhat limited. I mean, we weren’t about to enter the doors of a “nice” restaurant with Jack-Jack!
In our hometown, we had a restaurant that we enjoyed periodically called “Olgas.” We recently found that there is one here tucked away in the local mall. So we decided that we would go there for a little taste of “home.”
I made a point to get out of my yoga pants and into something “cute” before Eric came home from work. Still, I told him, we could just do pick up and eat at home. Doing so might be easier with the kids. After talking about it more, we decided we really should go out.
We loaded up the kids and were soon on our way. As we drove, I realized I had walked out the door wearing Eric’s flip flops. (It is just the kind of thing that tends to happen to moms as they are trying to get everyone else out the door.) Three extra inches of shoe was protruding from the back of my feet. We made a quick Old Navy stop since I didn’t want to wear Eric’s publicly and it would seem that my flip flops were lost in the move.
By the time I climbed back into the van, Stitch was fast asleep. Stitch is five now and naps are hit and miss. I was not surprised to see him dreaming away because he had spent the day outside.
We soon arrived at our destination and settled at a table. Spock and Stitch sat across from us and we put Jack-Jack at the end. Eric disappeared to the restrooms with Jack-Jack soon after because we had managed to leave the house in real underwear (he’s not potty trained yet and, believe me, that could be a post in and of itself).
Stitch had been resting his head on the table as he was still half out of it. He sat up and said, “Mommy, all I want to do is sleep.” That’s when every parent’s nightmare came true. Stitch began vomiting all over himself, the table, and the floor. It was a bad day to wear flip flops.
I ran around the table, grabbed his hand, and took off for the bathroom. As we entered the hallway to the bathrooms, the poor kid projectile vomited down the hall. By the time I had Stitch in a stall, his stomach was emptied and he was covered from head to toe.
I didn’t want to adult in that moment. Someone forgot to give me the “In Case of Public Vomiting” instruction manual. It was time to improvise.
The little trashcan in the stall had a tissue in it, so I emptied it and helped Stitch take off his shirt and pants. Once his clothes were stored in the plastic bag and he was somewhat wiped down, we headed out the door. There we stood at the back of the restaurant: me holding a bag of vomit-coated clothes and Stitch in his sandals and batman underwear.
While I had been in the bathroom helping Stitch, Eric had come out with Jack-Jack to find Spock standing in the middle of the restaurant. “Go sit down, Bud,” Eric instructed before noticing the horror that awaited.
A young waitress came out with two dry towels and began an attempt to clean up the mess. She started gagging and, before she could add to the puddles, Eric saved her. That’s what he was trying to do when he noticed Stitch and me.
The staff was very kind and did everything they could to help. I’m sure they just wanted us to leave! Eric gave Stitch his over-shirt, we grabbed the food to go, gave the waiter a generous tip, and headed home.
Thankfully, we made it home before round two hit Stitch. Needless to say, no one had much of an appetite.
By midnight, Spock was vomiting. By morning, I had joined in on the fun.
Our ninth anniversary will be one that will live in infamy and (now that it is past) remembered with a laugh! Here’s to a new year of marriage and memories!