An American Puke Story

The life of a parent is a messy one, and such is true even on a relaxing Saturday afternoon. She hasn’t been eating much the past couple of days and it seemed that her teething was the cause, but it wasn’t till yesterday that it came to it’s peak. 

The plan was to head out to Shady Maple for my Grandmother-in-law’s birthday. The Shmorgasbord was about a 45 minute drive, nothing to winding or complicated. But you never know how complicated a straight road can be once you have a 2 year old throwing up in the back seat.

The struggle was real: where do we pull over? Simply pulling off onto the shoulder was too dangerous, it’s as busy as a highway but unfortunately not as wide. So we picked a small parking lot aside a farm, and the horror continued.

Emma was obviously having issues before we had reached this point. Her squirming and whining were a bit if a concern, so I jumped in the back seat with her. It seemed on multiple ocassions that she would simply fall asleep, but alas it didn’t work that way.

One cough. Two cough….BARF.

Clear liquid, mixed with juice and little bits of what I can only assume was her French toast from that morning, came half rocketing half flowing out of her mouth. And boy did it really start to flow. I was convinced, sitting next to her, that there would probably be a puddle in her car seat by the time she was done. It would have even been all over the floor, due to one particular projectile shot of vomit, but luckily there was something standing in it’s way, keeping it contained.


Whilst leaning her forward so she didn’t choke and consoling her, I had forgotten one of the cardinal rules of taking care of a puking toddler: keep your mouth closed while in the “splash zone”.

She looked up at me with those sweet little eyes and puked directly into my mouth.

We got her out of the car and my champion wife started caring for the both of us. She now had on her hands a child covered in puke and a gagging husband with his shirt off. We all powered through the cleanup and made it back home.

Moral of the story: keep your mouth closed in the splash zone.

-B.K. Mullen


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