Mother of the Year

I think I may be on the mend. My throat still looks and feels like I swallowed a handful of gravel, but I have been officially told that I am going to survive. My doctor thinks I probably contracted a viral infection on top of the strep throat...hence explaining why the antibiotic did not instantly cure me the way it did Lucas. I still feel rather crappy, but I feel the tide turning.

During my unfortunate illness, I managed to rack up a wonderfully horrible worst-mom-ever moment. It's now official that I will NOT be awarded the Mother of the Year award this year....to the utter shock of all of my friends, I am sure. Sunday morning, I was in the car at 7:00am driving Lucas and myself to the 24-hour urgent care in Apple Valley. Because Lucas puked his guts up the last time he had strep, I brought along our family "puke bowl"....a circa 1970-something white bowl with handles on either side and a lovely blue flower design that was designated the puke bowl years and years ago....just in case. We were both diagnosed with strep, as I expected, and were given two prescriptions for amoxicillin. I then drove back to Minneapolis with the intention of filling the prescriptions at Walgreens. On our way to Walgreens, we drove right past a Caribou Coffee with a drive-thru window. My throat was on fire and a white chocolate cooler sounded like the perfect remedy to calm the burn, if only for a moment. We were driving right past it, after all. I pulled up to the menu and placed my order. Right as I pulled up to the window to pay, I heard a retching noise coming from the backseat. I looked back there to find Lucas hurling with complete abandon into the puke bowl. I panicked for a moment. I couldn't open my door because I was right up against he window waiting on my cooler. I grabbed a handful of Kleenexes and thrust them at him. I should have immediately driven away. I should have pulled up a few feet, at minimum, to attend to my puking child. However, strangely, those thoughts did not cross my mind at the time. I blame the bacteria that had invaded my throat....it must have affected my brain, as well. I sat there at the window, telling Lucas everything was okay...allowing him to puke alone in the back seat....until the Caribou guy finally handed me my cooler. The look of disgust he gave me said it all....yes, I was a monster. To the outside eye, I am sure it looked as though I had dragged my sick, vomiting child out of the house so that mommy could get her coffee fix. After...and only AFTER...I received my drink, I pulled up and parked in the parking lot. I jumped out and tended to Lucas. The smell SO nauseated me that I was concerned that I was going to be the next one to hurl. I was sitting in the parking lot at Caribou with a bowl full of puke, sucking hard on my white chocolate cooler to try to avoid smelling the contents of the bowl. I looked around in a panic, balancing disgusting vomit in one hand and pure creamy deliciousness in the other. I didn't know what to do. There was no way the bowl could be allowed back in the car with its current contents. There was not a trash can in sight. I did the only thing I could think of. I poured the contents of the bowl into the corner of the Caribou parking lot. That's right...I hurled the hurl. Or chucked the upchuck, if you prefer. Perhaps if I were not sick myself, I could have handled riding home with it and subsequently cleaned out the bowl properly myself at home. However, I was obviously not in my right mind. I dumped and jumped in my car to drive away as quickly as I could. I am pretty certain the guy at the window saw it all. I may never be able to show my face at that Caribou again. OK...who am I kidding? I can live with being labeled the neighborhood pariah. I cannot, however, live without my coffee. That being said, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the poor Caribou employee who discovered my deposit and ultimately, had to be the one to clean it up. I would also like to apologize to my son, Lucas. You are not, nor will you ever be, less important than mommy's latte. Had I not been sick, I would have been a better mommy. At least I hope I would have....