Wednesday, February 6, 2008
For your own good, put down any food you might be eating
I was going to do this big ol' post on Celebrity Rehab and how repulsively awesome it is, but then life intervened.
My children and I went out to eat tonight with some of my friends and their kids. We have some weird food issues here at chez SGM, and my kids don't eat much sugar or dairy. So tonight, all of the other kids were getting ice cream sundaes. Everyone orders the small ones, except for me. I order the kid-sized ones because I assume that they'd be extra-small, and my kids won't eat much anyway. Totally wrong on both counts. The "kids" size ice cream sundae comes in a grande cup, filled to the brim. WTF, Applebee's?
So I give my 3 year old her strawberry ice cream sundae, thinking that she will stop after a few bites. She's always a good little self-regulator. But then I look over after about 2 minutes and she has eaten pretty much the entire thing. She is a tiny, petite girl with a nasty ol' cheeseburger already in her tummy and I become filled with dread. I know what's coming.
A few minutes later, she does the expected. She barfs. Not her entire meal, just fountains of pink ice cream. And then the little girl across from her sees this and starts barfing too, a simple chain reaction. Like that scene in Stand By Me. I laugh helplessly at the awfulness of it all, and my other friend with the throwing up kid starts laughing, and our kids are crying. And I just don't know how I'm going to make it to my car, which is far away, and it's about 2 degrees out, and my coat and hers are covered in pink vomit. Plus I have a 6 year old who is running around like a chicken (literally, "bawk bawk" and all), high as a kite on sugar.
I have good friends. They're all trying to help clean up, which mortifies me. So I am holding my pukey kid, trying to clean so my friends won't do it. They finally convince me to just leave and on my way out the door I yell "Give her a big tip! $100! I'll pay you back! I am so sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!"
By the time we run through freaking Antarctica (props to my 6 year old who actually kept up with me) and arrive at our car, my 3 year old has totally recovered and is recounting her night: "I hate barfing! I barfed so much in there! That scared me so much! Can I have a snack when we get home? I am so cold! I hate barfing!"
Lordy be. Now everyone is in bed, and I am headed that way too. My take on Celebrity Rehab will just have to wait, but try to catch it tomorrow night on VH1 because some major shiz is about to go down. I am rubbing my hands in anticipation; it's going to be that good.
See you tomorrow!
Thanks to HoldThatTiger for the photo