Maybe Matilda: Major Ick

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Major Ick

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This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of Clorox.

Let’s hop in our little internet time machines and go back to last summer—I have a hilariously disgusting story to tell you.

My whole family travels together a few times a year to a beautiful lake town up in the mountains in Northern Utah. This particular trip was at the end of last summer—there were just a few weeks left before Darcy would be born, fall was on its way, and we had such a fun weekend enjoying the last few days of summer as a family of 3. (And the extremely astute, perhaps nonexistent, reader might notice how tiny Forrest looks in these pictures . . . some of them are from previous Bear Lake trips, because I guess I didn’t take enough pictures on this particular weekend!)

Mr. Suave particularly enjoyed racing around at the beach and lounging in the hot tub:

And his infectious grin almost captures the fun he had playing with his cousins for 3 days straight:

We all had such a great time hanging out at the cabin with family, making s’mores over a campfire, playing video games . . . it was a fantastic weekend and the perfect way to end the summer.

Too good to be true? Absolutely. Parenting never goes this smoothly. Read on.

As we started our 3-hour drive back home (in Jeff’s new [new to him, at least] car that he just might love more than he loves us), we stopped on our way out of town for some pizza at Forrest’s request. Jeff and I couldn’t stop laughing at how much pizza Forrest was packing away—slice after slice after slice, down the hatch. I think he ate more of that pizza than Jeff and I combined. And what’s a road trip without some snacks? We stopped at a little candy shop in town before hitting the road, and I guess all that pizza didn’t satisfy Forrest’s voracious appetite, because he downed his bag of chocolate and half of my licorice within about 5 minutes of getting buckled into his car seat.

He fell asleep as soon as he finished his candy, a miracle in itself—he never falls asleep in the car. Jeff and I congratulated ourselves on being such awesome parents. Not only had we had a fantastic weekend, which feels like a major accomplishment when 1/3rd of the family is young and moody and unpredictable, but we’d ended it on a great note, too, with Forrest’s favorite foods and a nice nap through the windy canyon roads. How awesome are we to give him such a wonderful trip filled with his favorite activities and people and treats? Super awesome. Go us!

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Can you sense the disaster approaching? You’re smarter than us—we were just riding along, blissfully ignorant, high-fiving each other for being such cool, adventurous, laidback parents.

Forrest woke up just as we were leaving the canyon and was whiny and miserable. I offered him more candy to try and cheer him up, then we hit a drive-thru and got him an ice cream cone, but he was still miserable. We wondered what could be wrong . . . it certainly couldn’t have anything to do with packing him full of pizza and chocolate and licorice and ice cream while driving through a twisty, windy mountain road, right?

As we headed down the highway, he absolutely exploded. Imagine Old Faithful, Vesuvius, your average high-powered fire hose, all in toddler form, spewing pizza and chocolate and ice cream, looking exactly the same coming up as they did going down. Jeff and I were in full panic mode—WHAT DO WE DO?! PULL OVER! I CAN’T, WE’RE ON THE HIGHWAY!!! NOT IN MY NEW CAAAAAR!!!!—while poor Forrest puked and sobbed in the backseat. It just kept coming and coming . . . all that pizza that we were so amazed he could fit into his little body, all that candy and ice cream we kept offering him, allllll over Jeff’s new car while we frantically tried to calm Forrest down and search for something he could throw up into and find a place to get off the highway to clean him up.

We finally reached an exit and raced him into a gas station bathroom to clean up (I’m sure the gas station employee just loved the sight of us sprinting in, carrying a bawling vomit-covered child), which was truly a pleasure since Jeff is an absolute baby about bodily fluids and I was 8 months pregnant with an awfully keen sense of smell.

As soon as we got him and the car as clean as we could and headed back out on the highway, Forrest perked right up and asked if there was any more chocolate he could eat. Ummmm, no.

Jeff and I think this is so funny . . . now that the vomit smell has been fully scrubbed out of his car. Seriously, what were we thinking? All that food? All that sugar? Right before a drive through a twisty canyon? Stopping for ice cream? Not our finest parenting. But thank goodness, we can now laugh at that awfully icky moment.

Every parent has all sorts of hilariously icky stories to share . . . and Clorox wants to hear them.

Here’s your chance to share your ickiest parenting moments—Clorox and Chicago improv troupe The Second City Communications are teaming up to host the Clorox Ick Awards on Twitter on Wednesday, April 9 from 6-10 PM ET. The Second City Communications will be turning the ickiest, funniest tweets into hilarious real-time video skits throughout the virtual awards show, with $2,500 going out in prizes to your favorite icky moments!

If you’ve got an icky moment to share in advance, tweet it out using #ickies, then ‘tune in’ during the first hour to see if it’s featured in the opening number with a surprise celebrity guest. Make sure to visit Clorox and sign up for their email newsletter to learn more about how Clorox can help you laugh through the mess, and follow @Clorox on twitter and submit your icky stories with #ickies to be entered to win awesome prizes!

Do you have an icky parenting moment? I would loooooove to hear it! Might make me feel better about packing my kid full of junk and driving him through a canyon until he barfed . . .

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of Clorox.


  1. Back in February my kids came down with colds while we were 5+ hours from home. I had to drive home alone with the kids while my husband stayed put. Two days of drainage was apparently too much for my 2 year old's tummy to take and he threw up all over my car while driving down the interstate. I cleaned him up in the parking lot of a Meijer, got back in the car, and started bawling.

  2. I did something quite similar, with Cheetos. I'd given a bag to my daughter, and had NO idea how many of them she'd fed to my son. Driving through the mountains of Tennessee, and suddenly half digested Cheetos and projectiling all over the car. The car seat cover was drenched. The gas station attendants were thrilled to see us, I'm sure! I ended up lining his seat with t-shirts from our luggage and throwing everything else in a tightly tied garbage bag until we got home.

  3. Well, at least you knew he was feeling better. One of my kids was so happy to have a lollipop after he puked that he just did not notice the puke all over him and his seat belt straps. I always have in my car extra clothes, a puke bag, and towels. I can't decide if that's any worse than little ones having explosive bm's that literally go all the way up the back of the onsie. Yeah, so much that you have to take the onsie off from the shoulder down and just throw it away.

  4. Good planning--I need to stock my car with backup clothes! I would always choose explosive diapers over the puke . . . my little girl has had quite a number of the major blowouts and they don't gross me out nearly as much as the puke does!

  5. Ewwww, Cheetos puke sounds particularly gross!!!

  6. Oh man, I totally would have cried too! Puke in the car is never fun, but especially if you're by yourself and have a long way to go still!

  7. LOLOL....happened to us too! New Honda Accord. Two little boys belted in the back seat (they were about 4 & 6). Went to a picnic and oldest son ate a lot...and puked it all out in the car while the younger brother was standing on the seat, plastered to the door screaming. Poor kid was traumitized for life. Once when he was a teenager his dad was sick. I found son sitting in the driveway in his car doing his homework when I got home from work. I asked what he was doing and he said two words: Dad's sick. I told him to carry on! Oh and that Honda never lost the puke smell. Like ever.


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