The Boy had something of an odd day eating-wise, and he had quite a lot to drink today, it seemed like. I had remarked on his eating habits earlier.
It all came back up right in the middle of one of our favorite restaurants, before any of us had even had anything to eat. First a warning shot, then *bam*.
Honestly, I'd never seen anything like that from him before, certainly not that kind of volume and force. We were apologetic to the other customers, explaining the situation (they seemed cool with it, considering The Boy's condition and age). The staff was very helpful as well with cleanup and trying to care for us. The Boy seemed mostly unfazed by the incident, as proven by the fact that he wanted to walk back and forth up and down through the restaurant (accompanied by one of us, of course). And of course, this is different from what a typical family might have done; most families would have just left out of concern for the child, but we felt fairly certain that The Boy was not otherwise ill and was feeling fine. He did drink water and juice and had a few bites of meat later, which might have made him feel better too.
He had a dose of Zofran at about 4 PM and this happened a bit before 6; Zofran isn't complete insurance but certainly very helpful. I gave him more of it a little after 8.
Working backwards a bit...we drove up to Grandpa's neck of the woods because Musical Daddy had rehearsal and has his summer program to teach tomorrow. He would prefer to have me nearby in case something happens with me going into labor. Coming up this evening also allows him some extra sleep. We went to one of his favorite restaurants in town with a former student of his who has finished his degree and is looking for a job teaching music. So we were talking job searches and teacher politics...not a very interesting topic for The Boy. Even without the puking incident, he was not the all-star dinner companion that he frequently can be. Factor that in, and he was "that kid." Helps that there really weren't any other little ones around that evening. You know...even though our child is generally well-mannered and easy to take out, flexible and cooperative, every child is "that kid" sometimes and no one is perfect. You roll with it. You do damage control. You get over it. I don't think that in this case there was anything we could have done differently. We didn't let him run around the restaurant on his own. We didn't let him throw food or otherwise screw around at the table. And of course the hugs were copious after he had gotten sick because he needed them.
So what am I doing up at 2:15 AM? Not sure really. I am not feeling so great. Signs point to the beginning of labor, maybe, or maybe not for a few days. I couldn't get comfy upstairs in the bed up there and ended up falling asleep on the couch for three hours. Now I'm in the recliner. No real contractions, as far as I can remember what those were like. Nothing frequent or timeable. Trying to get sleep because if this is labor coming up, I'll need to be well-rested enough to do my job.
I'll send Musical Daddy off to work in the morning and, of course, keep him updated. He is 15-20 minutes away from here, as opposed to 45 minutes to an hour from our house, and from here it is 10-15 minutes to the hospital as opposed to 25-30 minutes.
It is July 1st, and one of my friends said that I'll have the baby today, because it's her mother's birthday and her daughter was born last fall on MY mother's birthday. Wouldn't that be something.
All I know is, it will happen when it's good and ready to happen.