Here are two of our crazy kids during our most recent road trip. Yes, Chloe is brushing Bennett's hair. What happens in the car, stays in the car. For the most part. Except for that time that we were driving in the middle of nowhere Ohio and heard Chloe say, in a rather quiet voice, from the nether regions of the car, "There's a hole in the bag."
"Ok. So....why should we care?"
And then it all registered in slow motion. Chloe woke up not feeling well, saying something about a stomach ache. Chloe being extra quiet in the backseat (this never happens). Chloe literally throws up in her mouth and then swallows it (thus the reason she was uber quiet) until she can't anymore. It was at that exact moment I knew exactly what, "There's a hole in the bag" meant. She just threw up and THERE'S A HOLE IN THE THROW UP BAG!
I tell Chuck to pull over IMMEDIATELY! Luckily we're around the corner from some gas station in the middle of nowhere. He screeches up to the entrance as I'm opening my door and jumping out. Since Chloe is sitting in the seat behind Gavin, I open his door and he jumps out of the way at the same time as I'm pulling the back seat down to get to Chloe. Mom instinct kicks in and you just act. You don't always know what you're going to do, but you just start going. I yank her out of the car and see the infamous bag with a hole in it.
From there, it's a blur. I leave Chloe and sprint to the door of the convenience store. The worker is sitting out front on a smoke break and sees me hauling and jumps up and asks, "What do you need?" It's not everyday some half-crazed woman comes running up to the door from a car barely off the highway with all the doors open. I rattle off a list of supplies like a Surgeon. He gives me what I ask for and I sprint back out to car.
Chloe decides to finally stop swallowing her puke and lets the remaining contents of her stomach out. But that still leaves the stuff from the 'hole' all over the floor mat, Chloe's socks and shoes and anything else that was under the insufficient puke bag.
Next time the poor convenience store worker sees me, I'm ushering Chloe into their bathroom and using all their paper towels to wipe her down. He brings out a bunch more wet/dry paper towels to Chuck who I left to tend to the puke (his usual job). On my way out, I ask the worker for more plastic bags 'just in case'. Chloe inspects each one of them for holes. They pass the test. Thankfully, convenience store worker also lets us use his hose to spray off the floor mat. But that didn't stop us from needing to stop somewhere and buy car fresheners to mask the oder. I plan on keeping Clorox wipes in my vehicle from now on.
We drove for 8 hours that day. Chloe puked for all of them. It was a horrible day for her. But at least we were prepared from then on out with quality plastic bags, wipes, and paper towels. Chloe is a great aim at least. I'm afraid we inherited the Vacation Puke Curse from our friends, the Thompsons. We feel each other's pain.
