Monday, September 15, 2008

Have you ever tried to de-pant at Chuck E. Cheese? (01.07.08)

Well, I didn't just try to take my pants off in front of a Chuck E. Cheese, but I accomplished it! That's right, at 7 p.m. on a Saturday night, I was shuckin' the britches. Fun it was! What lead up to the occurence was even more fun than that.

Mental picture: Me, serene and calm, as usual, in the middle of chaotic Chuck E. Cheese's. Cookie and I were bonding, I tell you. Apparently she wanted to bond in a different sort of way than I was thinking. She got choked on a mushroom, so I let her puke in my hand (ahh, the joys of motherhood!). No big deal. I've seen puke more times than I can count. She gags a bit more, and proceeds to chunk on my jacket/shirt. Still not horrible, to me, since I've been through this before. Just as I'm about to wipe off myself, she makes a little gaggy sound again. I say, "Cookie, don't throw up on mommy." Evidentally she has a hearing problem too. Vomit shot out of her mouth like water from a firehose. I wish I could insert the sound effect here, I can do it perfectly. Anyhow, this time I actually screamed (which was muffled by the screams of 500 other children running amok) and held her away from me. The guy at the table next to me asks if I need
anything. "YES! PPEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBOOOOOOODDDDDDYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Again, another shot of the puke. My girl has The Exorcist topped easy! Peabody finally shows up and says "Oh, yuck.", and thinking it's no big deal, because he can only see my shirt. Then I lean over and show him the vomit-pool I'm swimming in, and he looks sickish. I take Cookie to the bathroom, the both of us dripping. Some nice lady tried to help me wipe off my pants, but to no avail. This nasty crap either curdled off and fell in chunks on the floor, or smeared. That's an awesome feeling. Really. I'm not exaggerating in the least when I say this is the most I've ever seen a child puke.

Fast forward to outside. I told the kids we had to go, obviously. We get outside, and I realize there's NO WAY I'm sitting in my car with these jeans on. My jacket, if you recall, was also puke-ified, so I wasn't sitting on that either. I made the wise decision to ditch the jeans, but the removal of them wasn't as easy. Not just because we were on the Loop on a busy weekend evening, but because chunks of vomity goodness were falling out from the INSIDE, smearing as I went. Bleck. I was NOT impressed. People were even getting in the car next to us. Oh well, like they've never seen legs before. Dorks.

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