up Chuck a-rama, lesser of two evils

Holy smokes, I haven't blogged in a while.  I think this is the same with everyone, the blog is taking the back seat.  But I am putting in titles of posts to blog later, maybe when I am retired.  Because I might have time then...

Paper rock scissors, that's what it came down to when Jeb and i were trying to decide what we were going to do on Sunday.  Our original plan consisted of joining Gavin at his Lego Robotics Tournament.  But the night previous was a completely awesome display in physics.


 Newton's law, the gravity one, it's really true.  If an object, say stomach juices mixed with chewed food catapulted from someone's stomach, Max's, at warp speed from the top of a loft bed, then those juices and chunks will hit the ground with such force as to splash in all directions for hundreds of feet.  Oh, and this works if Max pukes repeatedly from said Loft bed.  Not one surface was left unscathed.  Everyone got a little taste of the barf.  The desk, the chair, the curtains, the creepy life-sized leopard my guys named after their cousin Nathan, homework, library books, trophies, legos, shall I continue?


So the question, who got to go to Gavin's robotics tournament who got to clean up the puke?  In my mind I was thinking, "I don't want to clean up the puke, I won't do a good job with it.  Robotics with my son sounds wicked awesome."  So I said to Jeb, "Honey, what do you want to do?"  Please pick the puke please pick the puke...

"I think I will stay here and take care of Max.  I went to the tournament last year, you haven't been yet, you should go."  I was sweating bullets and I didn't hear the nefarious laughter coming from him.

"OK!!!"  I say a little too quickly  "I mean, are you sure?  That is some nasty stuff.  I won't have a good time, I promise."

So we went our separate ways, Jeb went back to bed and I took my dear un-medicated Gavin to the tournament of awesome Lego genius.  The other two wee ones went to my moms for a little time with Grandma.  It's always Christmas at grandmas house.

A few hours into our days I realized I had made a terrible mistake in lobbying to go to the tournament.  It was torture on so many levels.  Mostly because my dear child and his team need therapy, like a good dysfunctional family.

I can't go into the details because I might be accused of being a BIG JERK, not the first time.  But, I was texting Jeb asking him to switch places with me.  He was texting me describing in detail how well red Gatorade stains and how difficult it is to get dried barf off of the dresser and the carpet across the room.

WOW, impressive blast radius Max.

I didn't even care, I just wanted to leave and happily switch with Jeb.  I had been duped.  Jeb knew what I was going to be submitted to.

Thank goodness, thank heavens my friend Christin was there to text while we were sitting near each other and in general to commiserate with me.

Here's the zinger, my son and his team had a "great time."  They can't wait to go back next year.  Hmmmm....sign me up.

I know I sound terrible, but seriously, it was painful to watch a bunch of kids hopped up on candy and donuts and greasy chips try to focus on what they needed to do and how to improve.  NOt to mention, not all voices were represented nor listened to.  It's been three weeks and I can feel the blood pressure starting to boil.

And now, eh hum, the pictures.  I would like to thank Jeb from the bottom of my heart for this documentation... it was stellar.

Poor Max...

Poor Jeb...

Apparently the nose plugs helped with that nice smell of puke, upchuck, vomiting, hurling, barfing, losing lunch, tossing cookies, ralfing, throwing up, yacking, retching, technicolour yawning, spewing, blowing chunks, and/or other forms of physical illness.

Need I say more!  Both our days were challenging, and I honestly cannot say which I would have preferred.  The pillow on the floor is covering up a good portion of the puke.  You cannot see the stuff that ricocheted off the chair.

I love Jeb's face in the above picture.  It's hilarious.  OK I am glad I wasn't there.  And yes, when I got home, it was completely cleaned up and in perfect order.  My metro man is an amazing cleaner!