Holiday curse? (ie....holy vomit!)

I should have seen is coming! It's Wednesday night....two days before the 4th of July. I can taste the morning donuts, hear the parade, smell the bbq's, and feel the sun on my skin at the pool! I look forward to all holidays. 4th of July being no exception. Greg is going to be off work for three days. It's an excuse to "parade" sweet Ben around the neighborhood dressed in new patriotic clothes sent by "Gama" (Grandma Nance). And just feels like something you should celebrate with kids...and streamers.

In light of those expectations....we had planned on having a few friends and their kids over for donuts Friday (the 4th) morning, then participating in our neighborhood parade. Then home for nap time, and on to another friend's pool for an afternoon BBQ and party with several families. My idea of a fabulous day! I'm sure my poor 16 month old boy was overwhelmed just thinking about it. Maybe I shared too much information with him too early in the week. Because.....

Back up to Wednesday night. Ben is sound asleep...Greg and I are done with dinner, tidying up the house...and I hear a cough, then cry from Ben's room. I slowly open the door, as to not wake him if he's asleep, and the smell hits me like a kick in the gut, like a tidal wave...a North Shore in the winter tidal wave....ugh.....vomit! I am afraid to turn on the light, but clearly have to. I illuminate the room only to find Ben, the crib, and the carpet COVERED in blueberry, grape, turkey puke! Oh my goodness...where do I start? The baby? The carpet? Ewwwww! I holler for Greg, we tag team a baby bath, several rounds of carpet cleaning and a unanimous decision that Ben can NOT sleep anywhere near his room b/c the smell is horrible! In fact that entire end of the house now smells. We set up the pack n play in the guest room and get him settled and back to sleep. Then....cough, cry....vomit. More carpet cleaning. The cycle repeats. And repeats. Fortunately we were smart enough to put towels down in the guest room so he didn't actually puke on any more carpet...the cleaning was still focused in his room. He eventually fell asleep and stayed asleep until 7 am.

Thursday (T-minus 24 hours until parade day!) I had a baby sitter coming and questioned my parent decision making skills in deciding to actually leave him with a sitter....but I HAD to go to work that day so I left. I get a text at 10:30 saying that he puked, but just a little apple sauce...and on the tile. After Wednesday night...not a big deal. Not we're at a little less than 24 hours and I sadly cancel the donut breakfast and parade party for Friday morning, but plan for Greg, Ben and I to still participate. BUT I had FULL intentions of partying like a rock star (mom) at the pool Friday afternoon. As long as there was no more puke.

Friday - PARADE DAY! Happy 4th of July! We ate, we paraded, we played at the park...that's odd....Ben "I never stop talking" Thorburn hasn't said a word since breakfast. How about some lunch? Hmmmm....not hungry? He's probably just hot and tired from all the 4th of July fun. Nap time. I hope it's a good one b/c we have a SUPER fun party at 4:00! Minutes later....cough...cry....you know it's coming. Puke. Seriously? Poor little guy. Clean up. Nap strike. It's hours before it occurs to me that we can not in fact take poor little Ben to the 4th of July party at the pool....in the sun....fun in the sun....and burgers. So sad.

But we did decide to take him to Ikea thinking he was feeling better only to have him puke down the back of Greg's shirt and into a pile on the floor. We must be morons.

So Ben went to be at 7:00. Greg and I opened a nice bottle of wine, had a make shift 4th of July dinner with potato salad, chicken and corn on the cob. And enjoyed one of the best dinners (minus the food) in a long time.

I can't complete this post with out mentioning the insanity that ensued after the sun went down. I hadn't really thought about the fact that we've never spent the 4th of July in Costa Mesa. Holy illegal fire works! EVERY house on every street has make shift "fireworks" platforms fashioned out of ladders and plywood, and audience of 10-15 people in lawn chairs and endless amounts of legal fireworks, and a few smuggled in from TJ. Serious business. Our neighborhood (the only one in Orange County that allows fire works) was a white trash war zone. Hilarious. And a little scary. And I am already planning next year's festivities, but will not tell Ben about it so it's doesn't upset his stomach!

And just so you know...after resisting the (totally rational!) urge to call Empire Carpet....call today, deliver tomorrow...you know the annoying commercial...b/c Ben's room still smelled SO bad. We pulled up the carpet in his room and sprayed a 2/3 C to 1 gallon mix of bleach and water on the carpet pad and back side of the carpet, let it dry, then followed it up with a sprinkling (LIBERAL sprinkling) of baking soda and a few more runs of the vacuum. I am happy to report that the smell is (mostly) gone and Ben is back in his room. With a permanent towel under his crib to (cover the stain from the blueberry vomit....what? i didn't say the evidence was gone, just the smell) and just in case he EVER pukes again. Surely he won't ever puke again?!?!