Mommy Hell.

This morning Shamus puked on the bus while we were taking Chance to school. It was impossibly quiet. Chance and I were mid-conversation, I looked away, and when I looked back he was covered in his own vomit. We were only halfway through the first bus ride (It takes two buses to get there). I can't believe I missed how hot his forehead was. It was one of those every-mother's-nightmare kind of scenarios. I have no idea how I didn't freak out through all of that.

As much as I'm complaining, I am also pretty grateful too. Thank you to the old ladies who rushed over with napkins to help. Thank you to the bus driver who kept driving (even though they are legally required to immediately pull over, evacuate the bus, and call for a new one when someone throws up. I know this because when I was pregnant with Shamus I threw up on the bus several times). Thank you to the second bus driver who didn't say a word when Shamus climbed on still visibly puke-y. Thank you to the guy by the school lost-and-found who turned a blind eye while we borrowed a sweatshirt for Shamus to wear home. Thank you to the lady who ran and got me a plastic bag for his nasty clothes. Thank you to the people on the very crowded bus home who gave us their seats and pretended not to notice how AWFUL we smelled.

Getting Chance to school on time was a universally team effort, but I'm glad we made it.
Mama needs to hurry up and master freeway driving so she can get her license already.