I planned on writing a long post yesterday, but I was feeling a little under the weather, thanks to my nephew.
As I mentioned earlier this month, my brother C. is joining the USMC. He made it to Parris Island yesterday. In order to make sure we could all spend the holiday together, my dad rented a cabin up in the mountains of West Virginia. He also invited my in-laws, which was super awesome.
Now, my in-laws had to get to New Jersey on Saturday, but we were going to be in WV until Sunday morning. In order to allow me to spend as much time with my family as possible, The Hubs drove his parents back to Maryland (from whence they traveled to NJ), and I arranged to come back with my sister and brother-in-law, who live about 80 miles from me.
It was supposed to be a five hour trip. We left at 10:30 AM Sunday morning.
We made it to my house by 7:30 PM.
See, I have this nephew who gets car sick. Knowing this, he was not provided with the normal sorts of things that make him car sick (i.e. dairy products), and my sister administered Dramamine (or something like it.)
I think you can already guess that it didn't work.
The poor guy alternated crying, barfing, sleeping, and watching "Cars" with pleading to please stop the car/go home/let him go "pee-potty" in the grass. The first time he threw up, we weren't as prepared, and some of the up-chuck ended up in the car seat, on the boy, and down beside his chair.
The second time, he missed the INSIDE of the bag, but his enterprising mom just turned outside of the bag into a bowl-shaped receptacle in her hands. Of course, that wouldn't close, so I grabbed my Long John Silvers cup (still 1/4 full of ice and cold water), and she set the bag inside.
But traffic was stop and go, and we were stuck in the left hand lane.
And Auntie got to hold the freezing cold cup'o'barf until we were able to stop.
It was few hours later when he puked again. Mom was now in the backseat with the twins, who were quite insistent that 7 hours in the car was TOO LONG. Dad heard something in nephew's voice, and flipped HIS LJS cup (blessedly empty) to me, who managed to get it under his chin JUST IN TIME. No spillage this time, but I was (again) left holding the (warm) cup'o'barf. *shudder*
Dad (when he had a moment) transferred the nasty cup to a cup holder, but it was too late.
I was scarred.
So it was kind of wonderful to finally reach home and see that my husband bought me a Christmas tree.