Rusty's grandma passed away last week and her funeral was on Monday. We have 9:00 church and on Sunday I went in to wake Conner up and he seemed so tired. Usually when I get him dressed it's like trying to catch a chicken running around (not that I've ever done that, but I can imagine it would be pretty hard) but that morning he just laid on my bed and let me dress him like when he was a little baby, which I'll admit, was kind of nice. I just figured he was tired and needed to wake up. We were all ready to go and I was standing with Conner in my bathroom giving myself a once over in the mirror before leaving when what happens? Conner threw up everything in his stomach. Luckily we were standing by the sink and I just aimed him in the right direction so nothing was too messy. Well needles so say we didn't go to church that day. He was sick off and on all day and mostly just wanted to cuddle with his daddy. (What a daddy's boy. Doesn't he understand that I'M the one who likes to cuddle?) And Conner is so not a cuddlier so he must have been really sick. I stayed home with him while Rusty went to the viewing that night, not sure if we would make it to the funeral the next day.
Well, when he woke up on Monday he was running around and I had to chase him like a chicken to get him dressed and everything seemed to be normal. So we figured it was a 24 hour thing and he was good now. And he was for the most part. He was great for the viewing before hand and even did really well for most of the talks at the funeral. (well, as good as any 1 1/2 year old can be sitting for over an hour) The funeral was good, but reeeeeally long. It was getting really hot in the chapel and all of the sudden Conner started whining and got cuddly with Rusty. Rusty held him on his lap for a few minutes and then, all of the sudden, he threw up all over the pew. There was that instantaneous moment of "uh, what do we do?" where we just froze trying to take in the situation. Then tissues and hankies were thrown to us from all directions and we started cleaning up as best we could with tissues. Rusty had gotten the brunt of it on his pants since he was holding Conner. As we were cleaning, he threw up again! I dropped all of my sick tissues, picked him up and made my way down the row (of course we were sitting smack dab in the middle) as everyone moved their legs out of the way. When we got to the isle he started throwing up again and we left a lovely trail all the way to the doors. Nice.
But apparently he felt much better afterward. In the bathroom I set him on the counter and as I wiped off his pants and shirt (the one day I forget to have extra clothes in my bag) and then cleaning myself off, he was just jibber jabbering and laughing like he was having the time of his life. Good thing he's so cute.
Rusty was a pal bearer and supposed to dedicate the grave site so we couldn't just leave and I didn't want to go by myself in case he threw up again while I was driving and couldn't do anything about it (not that he really had anything else in his stomach I'm sure) The nice RS ladies told me to go and they would clean up the chapel (so nice) and we went to the grave site and he was just fine.
LUCKily Rusty's grandpa was oblivious to the the whole thing. That was what I was worried most about, that we had totally ruined the funeral for him, but someone said to Rusty "looks like your pants got cleaned up" or something and his grandpa asked "What happened to your pants?"
Morals of the story?
1. If Conner wants to cuddle with you, BEWARE
2. Always ALWAYS have extra clean clothes. (I usually do, but I just forgot to check. dumb!)
3. No matter how bad of timing something is, it could have been worse. All of the grand kids got up and sang "I am a Child of God" and it could have been then. Or it could have been ON the people as were were walking to the isle. Instead he waited a few seconds. Thanks kid.
and 4. Being a parent is never boring.