Everyone always seems shocked or amazed when I tell them that I'm taking the kids to England by myself. People seem to think it's a heck of a journey to do on my own. Normally, it's not so bad. Though this I time, I should have realized it was going to be tough when only after 2 hours on the road, Mini-Husband started telling me his tummy hurt.
The long version of this story is rather too painful for me to relive so I'll go with the synopsis. Suffice it to say, there is a rest stop on the A-71 towards Paris that will never smell the same again. Poor little man. We manged to make it to the parking lot, all four of us out of the car, and just into the entry by the toilets when Mini-Husband was sick. There we stood, me rubbing his back, holding Bubba Love on my hip, while The Princess hid behind the fake rubber tree plant next to the coffee machines.
After somehow managing to get Mini-Husband cleaned up (and the floor of the rest area as well thanks to a kind, kind staffer) we got back into the car and headed on our way. I could see from the rear-view mirror that Mini-Husband was succeeding in his interpretation of "A Whiter Shade of Pale." Could we make it through the next 5 hours?
The answer, my friends, was no.
Mini-Husband proceeded to be sick again in the car several times over the next few hours. By the time we reached the north side of Paris, his colour was still off but he seemed to have nothing left in his stomach to upset him. Blessedly, all three of the little people took a nap and I sat there wondering why on earth I had ever quit smoking.
When you reach the toll booth at Calais, it's only about 45 minutes to the port. I sighed with relief as we reached this little landmark. It wasn't far now till the boat and better still, Grandma and Granddad's.
As I pulled out of the toll booth, there was a strange little noise, that sounded like a combination of burping and crying. As I looked frantically at Mini-Husband in the rear-view mirror, I saw he was asleep. It was the nanosecond later that I realized the noise was coming from both The Princess and Bubba-Love. There sat my two littlest people strapped to their car seats, covered in sick.
Oh the joys of having to strip your children out of vomit covered clothes in the pull-out lane on a major highway when it's -2C outside! Not to mention that this time, both car seats had taken the hit so I had not only smelly clothes and children, but smelly seats as well. Lovely.
We whimpered our way to the boat and luckily managed to get an earlier crossing. The Princess was sick once more on the boat and Mini-Husband on arrival at Grandma and Granddad's. Bubba-Love started doing his rug impression yesterday but thank goodness wasn't sick again. I, myself, felt horrible yesterday and just sat watching snooker with Grandad all afternoon. Boy, I bet they were ever so glad to see us!!
When I spoke to Hubster, turns out he's been ill as well. He slept most of yesterday and is starting to feel "normal" today. That seems to be about the same for us. Now, I'm just hoping we haven't infected the grandparents.
The highlight has been Grandma's new washing machine. It's done a fabulous job of washing everything from the car seat covers to The Princess's shoes. Dirty yucky stuff in, clean smelling stuff comes out!
I'm also I'm looking for a car cleaning service to come and scrub down the car while we are here. I'm not sure I can face the return journey if our car still smells like our own personal Vomit Comet.
Holy cow, that wasn't fun!!