When my sister Lynsey, who Pman calls Aunt ZZ, was younger she had a friend named Michelle.
She was a nice, mostly quiet, little girl. Well, maybe she still is those things, I don't know Lyns and Michelle lost touch- perhaps you will be able to figure out why in a minute.
In the mall where we grew up there was a carousel in the food court. Typically, little kids would gulp down a soda and gorge on pizza, then hop on the mechanical horses. Their parents could be found sitting at the tables around the ride, enjoying a peaceful food court mall dinner.
As my parents were following that very routine, watching Michelle and Lyns whip around on their respective horses, they noticed Michelle looked a little- off. When the ride was over, she wobbled over to their table and my dad handed her his very large, swimming pool sized cup. She gently pulled the lid off, puked inside the cup, replaced the lid and that was that.
No mess. No drama. Easy breezy puking.
About a year later, my sister and Michelle found themselves at an amusement park on the swing ride. My parents stood with the other adults around the perimeter of the swings and waved as Michelle and Lyns once again went tearing through the atmosphere. Then they saw it, the familiar look of green on sweet little Michelle's face.
My parents quietly inched backward and just watched as the tiny girl's chunks were blown all over the unsuspecting spectators. My parents even heard people question each other, "Is it raining?" "Do you feel drops?" "Is it suppose to rain tonight?"
As she went whizzing by, Michelle innocently lost her lunch, dinner and cotton candy all over these poor people.
Because of these two examples, I have developed the Michelle Puke Spectrum (MPS). On one end, the up-chuck is neatly disposed of in a cup with a lid. On the other end, you blow it all over hundreds of people as they, unknowingly, watch.
Which brings us to Pman. On Saturday we went to see friends of ours and their beautiful new baby girl. Parker hammed it up all night- wearing his Batman cap the whole time, playing quietly with his trains, mimicking, mostly appropriate, adult phrases.
On the way home he was happily narrating everything we passed. When we were about a third of the way home, Josh and I heard the unmistakable rumble following by a splat noise and then crying.
Parker puked a lot.
We pulled over. I undressed him and wrapped him in my coat. We climbed into the very back seat of the MV and he curled up and went to sleep. As P and I were huddled together, Josh went barreling down 95 like there was some real kind of medical emergency that needed immediate attention. I just closed my eyes and rocked Parker as I listening to his breathing, making sure it was steady.
When we got home I cleaned P up a bit and put him to bed and then attempted to attack the carseat and clothes. Thankfully, the mess was contained to the just those items.
So on the MPS I think Parker is somewhere in the middle, but close to the neat puker- while he got it all over himself, my car is pukefree. Cleaning the careast was hell, but at least I don't have to get my car detailed. Although, now the carseat is in many pieces on the living room floor.