On Monday, after the evaluation that wasn't and the vomiting episode that was, Tuck and I took our sad, sorry selves to pick up Tyler from his place of safekeeping with a friend and to visit with my mom, to give her the full update.
Tucker was still in his diaper from the morning's explosions, so we borrowed some little boy clothes from that same friend who loved Tyler all morning. Tuck was doing okay for the moment, so we grabbed a bite to eat with my mom.
Grandma is really good for both of us on such days.
While I lamented all of my woes to my very encouraging mom, Tucker munched on graham crackers and juice, and Tyler plowed through everything he could get his hands on.
When we took my mom back to her office, we pulled up to the drop-off spot to finish our conversation and let her go back to work. With almost no warning, I heard the telltale signs from the backseat: more throwing up. Lots of it. Lots and lots of it.
I scrambled out of the van, scooped Tucker out of his very yuck-o carseat, and let him finish the process on the sidewalk. My mom ran inside for reinforcements; we needed towels, trash bags, and the prayers of our friends. I had to strip Tucker down: back to the diaper. I had to take the carseat out of the van, and I had to sop up the mess all over inside.
We were quite a sight. Tucker in his diaper, throwing up on the sidewalk (I am pretty confident there may still be remnants in that very spot), the entrails of my minivan spread for all the world to see... and all of this right outside of the administrative building.
Mom came with wet towels, dry towels, trash bags, the replacement carseat from her car, and her faithful assistant Alli, all of which were tremendously helpful.
My friend Mindy came out to see how she could help; she said she was inside watching, debating on whether or not to video tape this whole scene so I could post the proof on the blog... and then she decided it would be a better testament to her friendship if she just came outside and helped. Mindy is a former nanny, so she is not taken aback by the bodily fluids of other people's children; she cleaned Tucker up while I... cleaned everything else up.
Finally, the minivan and the toddler were suitable for the ride home. We all got home safely, and we all crashed in our respective beds. Every. Last. One of us.
Fast forward to the next day: my mom said that she could count a dozen people who shared sympathetic comments about the scene they watched from their office windows. So many commented, "We saw your daughter! Oh, how sad!" or "Poor Tucker, standing out there in his diaper..." or "I have small children; you tell her I know how it is..." We were quite the talk of the cubicles, apparently.
I am ready for this week to end.