Sunday, July 27, 2008

The Lost Sunday

Ever start a day with the idea that it's going to be a great one and then discover that the shit tank overturned and you are living under it?

The Plan
We would awaken late, enjoy our children and then pile into the new car for a drive to, and picnic in, the mountains. We would return home to a lovely dinner of rotesserie chicken and the fixings. Ahhh, Sundays....

The Reality
The Girl slept fitfully - some kind of digestive issue - and awoke several times in the middle of the night crying. Dutiful father that I am, I went to comfort her on each occasion. Sadly following the 2:30 am burst I was unable to get back to sleep. I wandered the house for the next three hours. So the day would be a sleepy one - no harm.

We piled into the car and off we went in search of cooler temps, giant trees, and alpine refuge. All went well, other than the Girl's continuing discomfort with whatever had her gut-struck. Our picnic was pleasant and the family lived up to its responsibilities for festive endearment.

We decided to take the long way back through King's Canyon and as the children nodded off in their seats, my beloved and I enjoyed the scenery and the beautiful day. The golden straw-colored hills dotted with grand, gracious oaks floated by. The sunroof was open and the MDX took the tight curves on that empty country road like a sports car half its size. Sunlight flickered off my wife's hair as Coltrane's horn shimmered through the car's surround-sound speakers and soundtracked our perfect life. It was a friggin car ad.

Then, 2/3rds of the way home, the Boy awakened from his slumber, murmuring. His mother looked back at him to welcome him from dreamland, but as she did so he returned the welcome with his lunch - all of it. It poured out of him, all over him, all over his car seat, and of course, all over the new, very expensive, automobile. "He's throwing up," shouted his mother. His father responded by hitting the brakes and pulling to the shoulder of that country road with stunning abruptness.

It was a mess. How that much food could have been in him is beyond me, but it was unbelievable. The winding mountain road had taken its toll and we had no options other than to strip him and try to wipe down everything with a short supply of diaper wipes. It was pointless. At least we had a change of clothes for him.

We raced the thankfully straighter remainder to home. Once there we pulled the kids from the car, discovering then that the girl's digestive issues had leaked onto her carseat. Mom took the offspring into the house for a more thorough cleaning while I got to work pulling the car seat and cleaning the vomitous auto. The cover was stripped from his seat only to discover that it is strictly hand-wash. What!? A kid's car seat cover that is hand wash only? I handed it over to mom and went to work hosing down the seat frame, belts, buckles, et al. Uh, ick.

Whilst I removed the Boy's lunch bits in my driveway I heard a crash in the garage. When I went to check I discovered that an entire, brand new case of my beloved Mexican Coke had somehow tipped over and fallen from its perch, shattering 6 of the 24 bottles and pouring their precious and sticky fluid as well as their glass shards across my garage floor.

I was now forced to hose down the garage to remove the syrupy danger before it dried and started attracting evil elements. That meant I had to get everything that could not get wet up off the floor. Then I swept up the big glass and started hosing. Once that was completed I needed to sweep the water from the garage. The whole process took an hour and a half.

The lovely rotesserie chicken would have to wait and the wife ordered pizza. As I finished the garage the driver arrived with our dinner - a large sausage was ordered; a large pepperoni delivered. Perfect end to a perfect day.

I will get the car cleaned tomorrow and never drive my children on mountain roads again.

My wife suggested I take a shower tonight. I told her that I was just too tired and would wait till tomorrow. She insisted. "Why?" I asked. "Because you have vomit in your hair," she answered.

Life is never like a car ad.

How was your weekend?

Addendum: as the Boy prepared for bed he offered me this unsolicited axiom: "Daddy, it's never a good idea to get sick in the car."

1 comment:

Bluestem said...

That really doesn't sound like a fun Sunday. Wanna trade for mine? It involved lots of mulch and a long bike ride, and then lots of mulch again. While feeling the effects of the boozing the night before.

Similarly, however, I also needed a shower afterwards. It makes me wonder why people insist on showering in the morning. You are obviously much filthier in the evening than you could ever be after a lovely little sleepysleep.