Marking My Trail with Regurgitated Bread Crumbs

How many synonyms do you know for the word “vomit”? I need to use words that mean “vomit” a lot in this post, but I don’t want to be a repeat word-offender, so I am going to access my brain’s word bank, pull out my thesaurus, and maybe venture to urbandictionary.com to find some substitutes.

And a quick note before I begin: I am pregnant. With a human baby. If you know me, please do not write anything about this fact on Facebook. If this is news to you and you would like to say something to me personally, either send me a text, write me a private Facebook message, or just talk to me in real life. It’s not a huge secret, but I don’t feel a need to make an explicit “Facebook official” announcement, either. If you are reading this, you are special, and you are now in the know. And you don’t even have to dig to the bottom of the proverbial cereal box to find the prize— you get to find out in the very second paragraph. Congrats!

Last fall, I made a promise that I would take myself and my already-born child, Scarlett, on a Tour de USA road trip. I am a man of my word, and I do not like breaking promises to anyone. Not even to myself. So when pregnancy fell upon me in June, I thought, “Oh well! I’ll probably be sick, but my road trip will prevail!”

And sick I was. I officially departed for my journey at 9:45 AM on June 29th, and my first pregnancy puke escaped my mouth at 10:15 AM that same morning. Great timing! Thirty miles in.  I am a master planner, so I wondered, “Should I turn around now and not continue, knowing that more sickness is on the way?”

Of course not! I continued on to Minot, North Dakota, where I would spend a couple of nights at my sister, Loni’s, house. If I had to be sick anywhere on the trip, Loni’s was the place to be. A- I see her the most out of all of the people I would be visiting. And B- I am most comfortable with her. Bring on the barf!

But there was no technicolor yawning at Loni’s homestead. Darnit.

As I continued onward to my next major depot, Portland, Oregon, I did not become ill once. I believe in a merciful God, and I thought that perhaps He was sparing me for my entire pregnancy, or at least for the remainder of my trip. Maybe this was a one-and-done type of thing.

But when I arrived at my cousin, Seth’s, place, sickness infected my body pretty quickly.

Sidebar: It was already planned that I would sleep in Seth and Jamie’s (his wife) bedroom during my three-night stay. During the times I wasn’t in there, I was usually sprawled out on the sectional sofa in their living room. I would hog half of the thing until it was time for me to go to bed, and Seth would take up the other half.

One night, while I was being a sofa thief, Jamie was lying on the floor. She said, “I’ll just sleep in the tent.” She put her head underneath a flap in her son’s weird little circus home. I just kind of laughed and thought to myself, “Why is she doing that? Why doesn’t she just go to bed?”

After doing things like this all weekend, I realized that THE COUCH WAS THEIR BED while I was staying there! And I was stealing it all along! How did I not realize this? I guess I just assumed that they were sleeping in their son’s room, even though there was no extra bed or mattress on his floor. And never mind that every morning when I woke up, Seth was snoozing inhis boxers on the couch. I just thought that he woke up really early and fell back asleep in the living room?!

I apologized for making naps and early bedtimes the stuff of dreams for them, but they both said that they didn’t even notice. End sidebar.

So as I was saying, I was not feeling up to par while in Portland. This was the first (first of many) times that Scarlett was able to hang out in the bathroom with me while I tossed my cookies. She was very concerned. She stared silently, and I actually saw something like sympathy in her eyes.

The next day, on the yippee-skippee 4th of July, Seth and Jamie had the pleasure of hanging out with me while I ralfed inside of their vehicle. This was actually kind of funny, because when sister, Loni, was preggers back in October, she also yakked while Seth was driving. Seeing as how we have only seen Seth a handful of times in our entire lives, the chances of this happening are ultra-slim. We are waiting for this to happen to sister Danni next. 😉

But at the end of the spewing sesh, my eyes were blessed with this sight:


Out next destination in this coming-of-age tale was San Francisco. Blah, blah, bleeeeeeeech, I’ll skip the chunky details, but I will leave you with this piece of information: Scarlett had now become so used to seeing her momma regurgitate her food, that the sympathy was nonexistent.  She had graduated to replicating my gagging sounds while I was bent over the commode. The only thing more nauseating than throwing-up is throwing-up while a one-year-old mocks you in the background.

After San Fransisco came his sister, San Clemente. In San Clemente, I was bending and sending (thanks for that one, Internet) while this was happening:


Just kidding. That was a lie. I was plenty sick in San Clemente, but it was all confined to a toilet.

And that was not the end of it. I was granted the opportunity to drown the ants on a Utah interstate while staring at this (and simultaneously peeing in my pantalones, thank you very much):


And I was able to flash my hash among the badass Badlands:


Even though I was sick on my Tour de USA, I am very pleased that I stuck to my guns and did not back out. I got to insult my shoes among God’s beauty. Now that I am home, I’m still ill, but all I get to gaze at while I gush the grocery geyser are my husband’s poop streaks.

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