"Honey, [I said, while sitting in the line at the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal] I don't travel well."
I made myself out to be some sort of fragile cake, or pottery bowl, or even a delicate tree ornament. But, there you have it...I just don't travel well.
Change is good.
Adventures are fun.
Broken routine is important.
But I simply do not travel well.
We had a fun and activity (driving!) packed few days on the mainland.
Visiting Great-Grampa (almost 90yrs old and still living independently!).
Hanging out with original Camp Qwanoes '99 Friends. (Ok, maybe their offspring.)
Playing with new toys at Nana and Pops' Vancouver condo.It was all good. But, then there was the puke. Oh the puke. What is it with Keizers leaving the Island and getting ill?
It all began as I had just finished my shower after our second of two nights. Still in my "original uniform" (you know the one that dates back almost 29 yrs), I hear a cough- cough-cough outside the bathroom door. Desperately wanting to put a towel on I briefly ignored the knob trying to be turned...until the cough turns into a sputter turns into a mess on the floor. Grabbing our poor, tough littlest guy I whip him over to the porcelain throne, only to have him puke on the lid (splatter splatter) before I can get it up. Once he's done all he does is exclaims, "All Done Mama" and (he) shuts the lid. Looking a little pale, he goes back to doing whatever it was he was doing pre-puke.
"Wadda. Wadda." he requests a few minutes later. We hesitantly hand him his water cup...chug chug chug. Then we have to leave for a play date with cousins. (We're thinkin' at this point that it's something he ate...?...And find out later we are wrong.)
Get to our cousins and he's running around, a little pale but still energetic.
Puke. I hold him over the garbage can..."All Done Mama".
The cousins play for another 45 minutes or so until Ben comes to pick us up for the usual mad dash to the ferry. We try to get some Gravol down before departing but just as we're trying to get that in, up comes more water...everywhere. Our poor little guy. He truly takes it like a man.
Fast forward five hours and we're home. HOME SWEET HOME. (Remember, I do not travel well.)
Tait is hungry. He's kept the water down that he drank, ah hem, chugged on the ferry. He wants pasta. That's it. No crackers, no toast, no tea, no banana (a usual no fail suggestion). Pasta. So, there's some cold pasta in the fridge. No need to heat it as he shovels it in as though he hasn't eaten in a day - oh wait, it's actually been nearly a day. Fistfuls go in....and one comes back up.
He's still hungry at supper (5 minutes later) so he downs a small amount of Salmon Casserole for which he requests some mustard. No kidding.
Kiddies in bed early, we relax doing our different things. Just happy that at least some supper stayed down. Until 2:30am.
It came up and I'll leave it at that. Needless to say there are no clean crib sheets and we are down a couple of Gravol. And there's been a lot of sleeping going on in our household this morning.
Sleep is a beautiful thing.And, home is where my family is.