We were on our way on this glorious sunny day. I called my husband and told him that I had lunch in the crockpot for him -- BBQ beef, it would make a lovely hot sandwich. I imagined the smell filling the house as he walked in to eat. It might just make up for his family not being home. I was feeling like such a good wife. And a good mother too. My children were dressed cute, Emma's hair in pigtails and ribbons, Mandy was wearing the cute pastel fleece from Children's Place and it just came out of the wash smelling of fabric softener, I had snacks on the middle console, everyone had water bottles or sippies. I wish it wasn't so rare for me to be this prepared, but it was an exceptionally good morning because I felt so not-nauseous.
We were about 15 minutes into our trip and then I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Emma slumped over in her seat asleep. Uh oh, that's not good. Hope she's not si ---- vomit erupted from her mouth like a spewing volcano. I furtively looked around for something to give her to puke into all while trying to keep from wrecking the car. I saw nothing to puke into, only my Dooney and Bourke purse, the nicely organized snacks and essentials for the day. The vomit kept coming and I looked for a place on the busy, narrow highway to pull over. Emma was screaming, "Mommy, I'm puking!" Ya, no kidding, I thought. I finally pulled over and survey the damage. Every conceivable surface in the back seat was blasted with this morning's regurgitated breakfast. I had one napkin and I gave it to Emma to wipe her mouth. I called my sister and said we were not coming and I turned around to head home with all the windows in the car down. I was now feeling the familiar nausea that is my ever present companion.
At home, I attacked the mess. I put Mandy in the house first because she was the least soiled thing in the car (only her fluffy pastel fleece and blanket were hit). I donned my rubber gloves, got a rag, disinfectant/deodorizer cleaner, and a plastic bag. I cleaned off the seat belt and the puddles from Emma's lap. I should note that she was now talking a mile a minute telling me she was not sick any more and she wanted to go see Benton. Little Miss Sunshine had returned, but it really didn't help what had already occurred. I finally got Emma out of her vomit drenched clothes (tights were a bad idea this morning) and the bath running. Mandy wanted a bath of course, so I stripped her down and threw both girls in the warm soapy water with their toys. I headed back outside to clean the car, leaving the back door ajar so I could hear the girls -- they are used to taking baths together, but I wanted to hear anything serious.
I shook vomit chunks out of blankets and was in the midst of trying to dismantle the car seat cover when I heard a shrill scream worthy of a horror movie. I dashed inside to find Emma shivering and naked pointing to her sister and yelling, "She's pooping!" I started screaming too when I saw the bathtub completely filled with semi-solid poop chunks and a slick of brown goo covering the water's entire surface. I've never seen so much poop, or at least it doesn't look like that much when in a diaper. Mandy was on her haunches in the midst of pushing out a steady stream of diarrhea from her bottom, filling the tub even more. About 10 toys and bobbed in the waste. I started heaving into the bathroom sink as each breath I took brought the smell of putrid diarrhea into my nose. I ran from the bathroom longing for a cleaning service to come and take care of this mess. There is no service who would do that and even if there were, I couldn't afford to pay them for this kind of hazard.
It was up to me. A towel for shivering Emma; pull poopy and crying Mandy from the tub and wrap her in a towel; get a mesh strainer and drain the tub; throw the toys in the sink to deal with later; scrub the tub with cleanser and bleach; rinse it 14 times; put Mandy back in the tub to hose her off, soap her up, and wrap her in a clean towel; get Mandy dressed and put her in bed to think about what she has done; clean the tub again as Mandy left some more poop chunks; put Emma back in the bath, soap her up, and wrap her in a clean towel; drain the tub.
I finished cleaning out the car. Emma must have been throwing her head from side to side as she puked -- nothing was sacred. She was seated behind me and the back of the seat as well as my coat sleeve, my Dooney and Bourke purse, and my neatly arranged snacks were all in her path of desolation. She even managed to get a shopping bag and picnic blanket in the back seat behind her. I had no idea vomit had that kind of trajectory. The car is now clean and load 1 is in the washing machine. There is a mountain of puke/poop infested items waiting -- at least 3 loads I'd guess. I've found vinegar takes out the smell of all sorts of things without making the clothes smell like a jar of pickles. It's also super cheap, so I added about 2 cups to the hot water soak and extra soap.
Emma is watching Beauty and the Beast and just announced she is not sick and wants a snack. Do I want to put more food into that child? Mandy thought so much about her bath episode that she fell sleep. She doesn't usually sleep at this time, so she's probably very sick too and will wake up in her own vomit. Maybe I should go strip the crib now before I need to do it wearing my trusty rubber gloves.
So much for feeling good today. Now I am ready for a nap. At least lunch is ready.