Of Vomit and Mini Vans

Two Christmases ago, we bought a new Toyota mini-van. Brand, spankin' new;

new car smell, et al.  We had two new children - I say "new" not because we bought them, but because we had become foster parents and we were pretty sure that we were going to adopt the two kids we were fostering. I moved out of a Volvo Station Wagon (with heated seats! -  I LOVED that car), for the kind of car I said I would never be caught dead in  - ever. 

Well, never say "never" and never (sometimes) say "ever." I got THE VAN. 

So, my husband, unwise to the world of small folk because he works full time, says, "Of course you know, there will be no eating in this car."  "Uhhhhhh?" I say.  "No eating or no drinking." 

"Hmmm, how do you suppose we eat then, when we spend all that time in the car?" 

"Hmmmmm (He's an engineer, so his Hmmmmmm's are longer than mine), Well, just stop the car, get out of it and eat on the side of the road." "On the side of the road? You have got to be kidding me!"  "Well" he says, "You can just pull into a parking lot somewhere or something." I'm thinking, (besides "you don't have a clue, Bucko") "Let me see. If Gabby or Josh need juice and we're driving to the park 15 miles away, I need to stop the car, park it, unbuckle their car seat harnesses, open the van door and just get out and drink it?"  Or maybe, "Are we ALLOWED to sit in the van, feet hanging out, but arms out with juice out - would that qualify?"  Oh, this became a huge deal. I tried at first not to eat in that damn van, but it was impossible. In the second week, I was passing out cheerios. Soon, it was sippy cups - unspillable, right? WRONG. Especially when Mommy forgets to screw the lid all the way closed.  Soon, HE sees crumbs and stains on the one day a week or month we might actually be in the car together. "I THOUGHT WE HAD AN AGREEMENT THAT YOU WOULDN'T EAT IN THE CAR!" I'm thinking, "Hmmm - not your agreement, your DIRECTIVE!"  I become guilted into not following our TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE agreement.  I try again. For one day. Then I give up and decide, I'm just doing it, that's all. HE is not dealing in reality. HIS car is clean because the kids ride with him maybe once a week to church and back on Sunday...total time round trip: four minutes. Not alot of opportunity to eat food, let alone spill it in four minutes.

A week later, we go on a trip to see family. The trip is five hours long with just me; eight if you add children.  Gabby starts screaming for food 15 minutes in (she's two). She goes full boar...I put on my "mommy headset" - you know, the invisible one that numbs out the noise and pain from aforementioned noise? I pretend I hear nothing. I hear HIM try to soothe Gabby. It doesn't work. NO, Dear Husband, your sooothing voice does not sooothe away hunger. GET OVER YOURSELF!  Finally HE says, in desperation and near deafness: "Hey, have you got any kind of, uh, you know - FOOD you can give her???

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!" (I'm right, so my AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAs are longer than his.)  Then he says, "Well we need it for emergencies, but let's not make a habit of it. This is a special circumstance." RIGHTO, KIDDO! I just got what I call "unwritten permission" to eat in this car every day! Thought it was gonna be easy to NOT EAT IN THE CAR, didn't ya? That's what you laymen ("laymen" = Dads who work during the day) all think about eating with kids in cars when you don't actually have to live and do it.  Now I see you're comin' around to my way a' thinkin.' I KNEW THAT YOU WOULD! cha ching!

Why is this pertinent, you ask? Because almost three years later, he's still saying things to the kids like, "Mommy's car is sure messy." Josh will say, "Your car isn't, huh, Dad? How come?" He'll say, "Because DADDY doesn't let you have food in his car, does he, Joshie?" "Nope!"(big smile like he's a part of some team) says poor, disloyal, Joshie.

Here are the reasons why I believe and know for sure that eating in the Van is not a bad thing.  

Today, Gabby vomited in the back seat of the van three times. She warned me, she told me it was coming, but I couldn't pull off the road soon enough. There it was, in my rearview mirror -a Mt. Vesuvius erupting from her mouth - composed not of  lava, but of toddler-snack gummy fruit and a bottle of strawberry milk, fresh from Safeway.  Pink puke with half-chewed fruity things in it.  Looked like melted strawberry ice cream with little gummy chips. Interesting flavor concept, really. Are you listening, Ben and Jerry? We could name it "Yummy Gummy Strawberry Regurgitation". 

Here's how else I know it's okay to eat in the car. When Gabby was little, she ate blueberries. They didn't agree with her. THEY ERUPTED into her diaper - blueberry poop - like nothing I'd ever seen before. The odor was so horrible, even she was offended.  I happened to be on a road trip to a beach somewhere with my friend Sabrina - we were caravanning - me with my two kids, her van full with her four kids and driver Sabrina. We stopped after the diaper explosion. Sabrina got out. She said, "Hey, what's up?" I walked to the back of the van, opened the hatch back, and Sabrina was suddenly struck down. She, too, was highly offended by the smell of the blueberry diaper explosion and started to gag. Now this woman has five kids! She doesn't gag!  I had never seen a blueberry react that way anywhere; again, Ben and Jerry, how about "Blueberry Diaper Explosion?"

There was also what I call the "104° fever-while-driving-south-on-the-NewJerseyTurnpike- vomit-express." Gabby - again. All over her, the seat, my seat, me.  Lovely, lovely, mess. That meal was a hot dog and a juice box of lemonade.  Sour smelling! (A last bid for Ben and Jerry: how about "Hot Dog Cart Meal For one of Fun?"

One last reason I know that it's okay to eat in the minivan? When we lived in a not-so-nice section of a town in Maryland, and my son Josh had to pee, (and it would always be a surprise - "Oh Mom, I really have to pee NOW" type thing), I'd pull behind a building somewhere, usually the drug store, and let him pee in my paper coffee cup BECAUSE I WOULD NEVER PULL OVER ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD ANYWHERE, THERE, AND EXPECT TO LIVE. We had tinted windows in the back of the van, so there was no problem - no one could see in! He did that like, seven times. And we all know that little boys spray...

So, the thing is, the car is very, very, very, dirty. Even if we never had a speck of food or drink in it EVER, it still would have been a wreck. So, what's the harm in some cheerios, gummy fruits, Capri Suns, or Chicken McNuggets, after all?  Nothing, right? Sounds like the combination of a good time in a REAL FAMILY VAN.  That's right. The dirt just means it's lived in (and puked in, and pooped in, and peed in).

Wow...now that I am reading this, I'm thinking that with all that peeing and pooping and vomiting going on in there, that maybe we'd better NOT eat in there. It's almost unsanitary! Heck, it'd be like setting up a picnic on the floor of a public restroom.  

Shoot, maybe HE was right after all.  ☹

DAMMIT!