nothing knocks that new car smell out quite like projectile vomit..

vomit If any of you follow me on facebook, (ok, so you all do, that’s why you’re reading this right?) you will already be aware that yes, I did just purchase a shiny new car yesterday. Not only did I purchase said car, but I fell in love with it the minute I saw it. I love this car like my own children. And on really bad days I will love this car even more than I do right now for the simple fact that I can get in it, and drive AWAY from my children, my husband, and my perpetually messy home. Anyhoo, I digress. So the day came to collect my new car, an hour and a half drive in peak hour, gridlocked traffic, two children who despise and form of road trip that lasts longer than the drive to our nearest McDonalds, and a busted car dvd player, all made for a wonderful late afternoon family drive. Needless to say, we arrived unscathed and it seemed for once I was going to be able to present my children to the general public without being asked to leave a certain place of business for some reason or another. (usually happens at least once a week)

Well I was wrong.

Firstly, let me give you a little back story on the kid in question. Adorable child, very friendly, love him more than words can say. But this child has the uncanny ability to go from bouncing off the walls to vomiting in his mothers mouth as she picks him up, in literally 2 minutes. I mean, when he gets sick, there is no warning, no fever, none of the ‘normal’ signs that he’s about to paint your living room with diarhorreah, vomit and snot simultaneously. Nothing. It just happens.

So we have arrived, and as we pull up I turned and give them all ‘That Look’, you know, the one that means ‘please, for the love of god, just once, do not fart in any new cars and get out and shut the door, do not wipe snot on anything, do not pick your nose and ask the salesman if he wants to taste it, do not drop your pants in public and pee on the grass’ do not poo your pants, dig in your nappy and wipe it on anything (see previous post), and so on and so on. (all the usual warnings for my boys) Assured that they have all taken ‘The Look’ into account, we walked in. Literally two steps into this car yard I happened to notice Mr 3 had turned a peculiar shade of green (it really complimented his red hair) his little cheeks had puffed out, and he had started furiously shaking his head. ‘no no nooooooo’ I moaned and I must have sounded like a laboring cow because my husband turned with a horrified look on his face and started jogging towards us which in turn prompted Mr 3 to turn and run in the other direction.

‘NO CHILD DON’T RUN, DON’T RUUUUUUNNNN, HOLD IT IN HOLD IT IIIIINNNNNNNNN!’

too late. as he ran he swiveled from side to side, spraying every car he passed with what seemed like 4 bags of twisties (yep..the orange ones) and with every target he hit he kept going, circling this car yard, spreading his ‘joy’ and by now every person in that place had stopped to stare. My husband and I are doing that crouch run ( you know the one you use to catch a speedy preschooler who corners better than you because they are lower to the ground?) round and round this car yard, with Mr 2 following, thinking we were playing, ( why, child, would you think mama wants to play catch in the middle of a busy car yard while your brother redecorates?) cackling histerically at the top of his lungs. We couldn’t catch the kid. He just kept going, zigzagging around until finally after a good five minutes of this, he ran up to me, wiped his face on my new leather leggings, smiled and said ” I feel muuuuuch bedda now mumma”

Really child? do you? well that’s JUST FREAKIN GREAT ISN’T IT??!! ( I didn’t really say this but I wanted to scream it, well actually, I wanted to climb inside one of those cars and cry)

And still no one came to offer any assistance. Every other time I have gone to a car yard, I have been swarmed by salesman, but strangely not this time. I was guessing the fact that my son had just defiled at least 15 cars, and we were all dripping with orange half chewed vomit, was a bit of a turn off. Meh..who knew?

So, boring details aside, my shiny new car was in my hot little hands and Mr 2 and Mr 3 had requested we change their car seats so they could ride in it with me. ‘Sure!’ said hubby, smirking at me. Second mistake.

Now Mr 3 assured me he was feeling ‘much bedda’ so we have piled in and set off. By this time, peak hour traffic had begun, it was Thursday afternoon, with Good Friday being the very next day so you can imagine the sinking feeling I got when, stuck in a line of at least 50 cars, all at a standstill, Mr 3 once again went that gorgeous shade of green, puffed his cheeks… and blew chunks all through my new car.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CHILD NOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I couldn’t move, I was on a freeway, my kid had spread what I thought was the rest of his stomach lining through my car, and I couldn’t move. Mr 2 was now hysterically giggling and mimicking his brother. ‘Mama he went bleugh mama, he went BLEAUGHHHHH like that mama’ The sickie in question had then started freaking out ( you know when they are so violently sick they scare themselves?) and was now flailing wildly, still erupting like some disgusting orange coloured fountain. He had sprayed his brother, had launched a liquid attack on the back of MY head, he had sprayed the windows, he had it all through my nice new power window buttons, the upholstery was saturated, the car reeked of it and here I am, not an emergency lane in site,, hanging out the window screaming ‘EMERGENCYYYYYY THIS IS A FRICKEN EMERGENCYYYYY HEEELLLLP MEEEEEEE!!!! MY CAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!!!” tears streaming from my face, one kid crying, the other one still yelling “He went BLEAUGHHHH Mama, BLEUGHHHH!!”, other cars beeping and laughing at us, pointing like we were some kind of freakin tourist attraction, doin 15 kmph, unable to do a damn thing, and I look up… and there is my husband, in the lane beside me, PI**ING himself laughing, like really cracking up, and waving!!! ‘Hi guys..everything ok?? ( WTF!!!???)

WHAT AN A**HOLE.

I was a broken woman. My car stunk, my kids stunk, we were all crusted with dry pre chewed twisties and Ben 10 juice, I had done the ugly cry,..in fact, 2 hours later by the time we made it out of the gridlocked traffic, we had ALL done the ugly cry, the second child had finally succumbed and emptied his stomach contents in my new car also, ( can’t beat ’em join ’em right? ) we pulled into the driveway, hubby was already home, he opened the door grinning his a** off and said the last thing he probably should have if he valued his nuts at all..

“Did you stop for beers??”

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