If you're going to spew, spew into this

I assumed I would only be writing a post every few days, every week maybe. I don't want to bog you all down with mundane details of my everyday life. I ate chicken fries and tots for lunch. I did some dishes. I showered. I may or may not have made my bed. But as typical as my morning was, my evening was anything but, and to withhold those sweet, sweet story nibblets from you would be a downright disservice. 

We decided, after much argument over naptime (if you can call it nap when Jules blatantly did not nap), to pack up our little troupe and make our yearly mecca to the Allen County Fair.

 It was a nice breezy day, according to my Weather Channel app. In my opinion, The Weather Channel can take a nice little stroll straight into the pit of hell. Had I realized that the sun beating down upon my pasty, delicate body would cause me to experience Satan's sweaty buttcrack firsthand, I would NEVER have worn jeans and a black shirt to the fair. Forget the fact that I decided to wear makeup that, by the end of our affair at the fair, had run down my face like a clown caught in a tsunami. It was just plain balls hot. 

We strolled along, watching Jules take in the splendor that is the fair. Seeing the wonder in his 2 1/2 year old eyes made the sweat running down my face slightly more tolerable. He wanted to ride everything, to eat everything, and to touch everything! We perused the animal barns. Jules was mortified by the cows. Cora sat in her stroller, gnawing on her fingers. I was mortified by the street youths dressed like street walkers. Nate pushed the stroller, gnawing on his fingers... er... maybe I have that wrong...

Anyway, some kind Samaratin gave us free meal tickets, which was pretty awesome. We ate, we walked, we played one game in which Jules "won" a Spiderman poster. I do believe we just paid for a Spiderman poster but, don't tell the boy... We shared a lemon shake up, Jules rode ride, after ride, after ride. Surprisingly, he had the same look on his face each time. Complete skepicism. Not the reaction I was expecting. He stared at the mechanical parts of those rides with the look of a man who just knew that the ride was going to fail, and he would plummet to certain death. He was completely and utterly unamused. So why he kept riding, I have no clue.

We got his face painted like Spiderman, which was the highlight of his evening. In the meantime, Nate stabbed himself in the head on something sharp in the Bumper Car line, which coincidentally, Jules ended up being too small to ride. Blood was running down his head. I'm pretty sure he has tetanus. Maybe he'll pull through, the verdict is still out. 

When the sun started to go down and Julian was resting his tired little head on me while we rode the Merry-go-round,  we decided it was time to bid farewell to the Allen County Fair. 

We hiked to the car, sweat still running down our cracks, loaded up the kids, and started the 20 minute ride home. Cora was already asleep and Jules was close behind when we heard it. We heard that unmistakable sound that causes fear to rise up in the hearts of all parents, the sound of barf. 

Tonight we learned a lesson that will serve as insight for years to come: Julian plus spinny rides at the fair equals exactly what you we should have expected. Is it so bad to expect the sweet, melodic giggles of a small child? The answer is yes. 

As we were driving down the highway, still covered in sweat, dirt, and some sticky residue of unknown origin, we heard the dreadful sound of Julian losing the contents of his stomach. It was red. Bright red. With chunks, that in my hypersensitive mommy mind, were probably bits of his organs, and we needed to go to the hospital, and HE WAS DYYYYYYIIIINNNGGG! And just when I was about to hyperventilate, my brain kicked back on, thank God, and I realized it was the blueberries he had for lunch. And I needed wipes. Stat.

He freaked. He is not a messy kid. My fault. He is actually borderline neurotic about messes. Again, my fault. So, he began to flail. Bits of chunky blueberry vomit began whizzing through the air, like confetti, in the backseat. Tears streaked his face paint until he looked like teenage hearbreak Emo Spiderman. I turned around in my seat to start the damage control. I unbuckled him, stripped him down, rebuckled him, and cleaned up the car seat. I went through almost a whole package of Huggies wipes and guess what? No fiberglass... Moving on...

I finally got the barf cleaned up to the point whare he wasn't screaming at level 10. We had finally made it home to claim sanctuary. It was raining, hard. In a stroke of parenting genius, I had Ju get out of the car, in his blueberry stained Justice League underwear, and his tear-streaked Spiderman facepaint, and run around in the rain to wash the last of the spew from his little body. 

We got him inside, bathed him, and he was perfectly fine. Apparently, the dude just can't handle the fair. I don't really blame him. Seeing some of the teenagers running around acting like zoo animals made me want to barf too...