Carpool From Hell

My friend Sarah is due any moment now, and we celebrated the pending arrival of her baby boy this weekend at a gorgeous baby shower, complete with Pinkberry--DELIVERED. I did not know such luxuries existed! But Sarah's mother in law helped me see the tart light. And showed me why caterers are worth every penny. Imagine, delicious, hot food, and you can talk to the guests at your party too!

Emmy--getting her hair did at the event. I'm the Andre to her Oprah. 

Notice: she is wearing sweatpants instead of the tights that complement that dress. Sweatpant-aholic.

After the festivities wrapped, I collapsed into the backseat of our trusty Prius for the hour long ride home. Little did I know my small headache was building into a full scale crescendo of skull throbbing pain. Pain that would be punctuated with nausea the likes of which I haven't seen since I was in my first trimester with Emmy. Those were the days--when I'd cross the San Mateo bridge clutching a Gladware container that I would barf black bile into every mile or three. Because morning sickness is all day sickness and it doesn't give a toot that you can't pull over at midnight on the Bay Area's longest bridge. Besides, barfing while driving hasn't been outlawed yet, right? #Nguyening!

Back to the Prius. I am now hotboxing everyone in the car with the smell of my hot lunch. Which, as Bob Franklin so gamely explains in this BART bacteria story, is when you throw up. In my case, it was hot hors d'oeuvres.

Did I mention it was an hourlong ride home? And by home, I mean my friend Connie's house because we were doing our part to preserve the planet and carpooling?

We pulled over to switch seats, so I could be in the front. Because that would stop the vomiting. RIGHT? RIGHT?????? Lucky for me, because we are so 'green' I had a couple of shopping bags in the trunk. And mercifully, among the cotton and mesh bags, a nylon bag. A blue tote we got as a souvenir, ironically printed with "Hawaii! Catch the wave!"

But I was hoping I'd feel better in the passenger seat. The bag was just insurance. Insurance lasted about 90 seconds. Every few minutes, for the ENTIRE RIDE, I was in pukatory. 3 adults, one toddler up way past her bedtime, and the Baroness of Barfing, carpooling home from a lovely event. 

The only talking happened early on.

Me: (Wiping my mouth, mumbling) "Maybe it was the meatballs."

The Good Doctor and Connie (simultaneously): "The ones you fed me?" "No, I had like 4 meatballs and I feel fine."

Me: (Whimpering sounds between rounds of barfing) "I don't know. The deviled eggs?"

Them: "Nope. Ate those too."

Me: (The sounds you make when your body takes over and expels everything that is in your stomach by force)

Emmy: "Mama?"

That's when I shut up. And the rest of the 45 minutes was spent in silence, with the occasional deep wretching sounds from me, and Emmy saying, "Mama?" And "eat now" because she was too distracted at the party to eat enough dinner.

So Sean, that's why Connie said, "Go. Go. Go. Just get in the house" when we dropped her off. Trust me, your wife had your safety and well being in mind. You did NOT want me to roll that window down.