Tuesday, May 09, 2006

And while their heads were bowed in prayer...

So, back to my story about my trip to South Carolina for my brother's wedding.

My son, the ring bearer, has a history of throwing up. And it's been pretty bad as of late. As in, we've gotten so used to the throwing up, we don't even consider it a big deal. But others? They may still consider it a big deal to have a little boy throwing up all over the place. Especially if the boy happens to be standing at the front of a church filled with 350 people while a wedding is taking place. But to us, eh, just another thing.

Well, as you can guess, he started to throw up.

The wedding started at 7 PM, but we had to be there dressed and ready for pictures at 5. That's prime dinner time, and 7 is getting close to prime bedtime for my kids. Really dangerous timing. So there we were at 5, the boys dressed in hot, stuffy tuxes. My son, he was excited and wired. He posed happily for the pictures, and ran around the church "checking on" everyone. He was a boy on the go. Until about 6 PM that is, when he was done with all his getting ready "duties" and was forced to sit in a little room and wait for wedding time. It was then that he started to look a little tired. And nervous. And pale.

His eyes get red. That's the first clue that he's feeling a little puke-y. And I saw the red eyes when I went into the waiting room. So I asked him if he wanted to go to the bathroom. I thought maybe a good pee (going potty is always the answer to ailments around here. Looking a little green around the gills? I'll ask, "Do you need to go potty?" Seeming a little off? I'll ask, "Do you need to go potty?" I'm telling you, going potty can make you feel a whole lot better.) a little change of scenery, and maybe a drink of water would get him feeling a little better. But none of the above worked.

Then it was time for me to be seated. When my husband came in to escort me to my seat, I told my brother to grab the little pot that I had already scoped out as the best thing for my son to throw up in should the need arise. Because nothing makes a groom feel better during one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life that to have to watch for a puking child. Heeee! Anyway, I went to my seat and hoped it would be okay, and my son would calm down a little.

The wedding started (in such a cool way too!) and I saw my son walking down the aisle holding his little pillow. He looked so cute! So dashing in his tux! And he took his place next to the best man (Grandpa, to him) and managed to stand fairly still while the reverend spoke. Well, actually, he looked like a kid waiting in the lunch line. He kept looking around Grandpa at the Bride and Groom like he expected the line to move forward and couldn't figure out what the hold-up was. Then he started to cough. And when he coughed, he made a little gagging sound. I sat through that twice, when on the third cough he actually gagged.

I knew what that gagging meant. It meant that a stream of stomach contents was about to spew forth. And not just a little bit either. So I sprang from my front row seat (which I made the wedding director give me in case of just such an instance) and yanked on his hand to remove him from the front of the church. Only my dad had a hold of his hand, and was not letting go. So I had to give a couple of good yanks to let my dad know that, yes, he did need to be removed, and, no, the gagging wasn't going to stop like it did the previous couple of times, even if my son said he was okay.

So I quickly led my son up the side aisle, towards the exit. I knew he needed to get out of there, and quickly to boot. I also had a tissue in my hand (for all the crying I was doing) and put it over his mouth. People were probably wondering why the crazy lady grabbed the little boy and was putting a gag over his mouth. But it was a good thing I did, because he started to throw up before we made it out. And the tissue actually managed to stop the flow. That, along with my cupped hand. (Ewww.) The photographer at the back of the church handed me a handkerchief as we exited, thank goodness. (I owe him a handkerchief, since I don't think he wants that particular one back.)

I got my son safely to a bathroom, where he calmed himself down, and his stomach settled. I managed to get the puke off of his tux, and make him feel a little better. The sweet boy was worried that he had messed things up. He kept saying sorry. In fact, he still feels bad about it, no matter how many times everyone told him it was okay. Such a sweetie.

Oh, did I forget to mention the whole puking thing happened during the prayer for the Bride and Groom after they had just finished saying their vows? Yeah. Good timing, huh. (Actually, it may have been good timing. Most people had their heads bowed and really didn't notice.) But still...
If you're wondering about my daughter, she was such a beautiful little flower girl. She was so well behaved, and sat, by herself, in a room full of Bridesmaids she didn't know for over an hour while everyone was being seated and everything. Then she stood at the front of the church like an angel during the whole ceremony. It wasn't until the pictures were being taken afterwards that she broke down. And she refused to be in any more pictures. But who could blame the girl? It was late and she had been without her mommy for hours by then.
And both kids were fine by the reception. My son took his sprite in a wine glass and stood around in his tuxedo sipping his drink like he was Bond, James Bond. (Quite debonair.) And my daughter shed the flower girl dress and put on a more comfortable denim skirt and t-shirt. Then she danced the night away on the dance floor. That girl can boogey.

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