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The Time We Went to Meet Santa and I Ended Up In My Bra

December 8, 2014


I won't lie here, I had a hidden agenda. I had just had 2 "poor me" days and I didn't feel like sitting at home. I was getting more depressed by the minute. I even had tears most of the day. I decided it was time to amp up the holiday spirit and get Kaleb excited about Santa.

 


I got my ass off the couch, dressed Kaleb is his Sunday best (of course) and I threw on some jeans and a hoodie. I didn't need to look cute because well, I'm too old to take a picture with Santa.

(Ahhhh the beauty of having kids, you make them look like models but no one cares what you're wearing. It's a glorious time.)

 


It was going to be a magical night, really. One of those nights you cherish forever because you get to see your kids face lite up with the sight of Santa.


 


We had some fun story time in the car on the way to the mall. I told Kaleb all about Santa and his elves. We discussed the North Pole and how Santa will only fly here for good boys and girls. Kaleb understood that Santa’s main goal is to bring presents so I made sure he knew he’d be questioned on what he wished for.  His answer: a princess. 

You see how this night was quickly becoming magical with tons of holiday spirit?


We got in line to see the big guy and Kaleb started to get worried. He tells me he doesn't want to see Santa and that he just wants to leave. At that point, I didn’t want to give up.  We were there to see Santa and damnit, that’s what we were going to do.  I told him he could pick out a toy if he behaved and sat next to Santa. Worked like a charm.

 

 

As soon as I gave the OK and told him he sat long enough for a picture or two, my kid wasted no time in exiting.  We were out of there, ready to go purchase a toy, in which he purchased a remote control car.

 

After the purchase of his car, I gave him the choice of eating a hot dog or queso.  In our world, when he says he wants a hotdog, that means we eat at Sonic.  If he says he wants queso, that means we eat at a Tex-Mex restaurant.  You know by now, we are chip and dip lovers. LOVERS. My bestie picked queso and I had no complaints.

 

 

We headed on over to the restaurant, ordered all the quesos and teas and started demolishing. 

Like the social media whore I am, I was just sitting there, posting pictures of Santa and queso eating on IG and FB fan page, watching everyone "like" the adorableness I like to call, Kaleb. I was so busy doing that, I didn't even realize he had damn near cleaned out that whole bowl of queso and finished his entire glass of tea. He was working on his last bite and mildly choked on a chip. By "choke" I mean, it went down the wrong way, which happens to him often. We’re both getting used to it but it still seems to initially scare him.

To make sure he was okay, I went to his side of the booth and sat with him. He was fine, just a little shaken up. I put him in my lap to wipe his tears and the Queso Killer looks up at me and barfs.

I had an entire bowl of queso and 2 glasses of tea, all over my hoodie. He had an entire bowl of queso and 2 glasses of tea all over his over-priced reindeer sweater and khaki pants.

I sat there for a moment in disbelief. We both had vomit all over us and suddenly I remembered, I was the dumbass that didn't put a shirt on under my hoodie. I know, I'm sometimes weird like that.

Kaleb is looking at me like, "uhhhh, I just barfed on you, you're the mom, do something you crazy lunatic. And I'm just all, "shit, I gotta drive home in my bra because I'm too fucking cool for undershirts."

I told the waiter to get me a wet towel when in all honesty, a wet paper towel from the bathroom isn't wasn’t going to do shit for me. I needed like an oversized adult bath towel and a washing machine for this unbelievable amount of vomit. And then while you’re at it, bring out the mop in that yellow bucket. 

That's about the time when a saint approached me. You know how I knew she was a saint? She was a fellow mother. She just had that badass-take-charge-I-know-what-to-do-because-I've-been-there, feel about her. She took Kaleb's clothes off while all I could do was wipe my hoodie off with a damn paper towel from the bathroom. 

I told the waitress to bag our food and bring me the ticket. You know how I know she wasn't a mom? She asked me if I was going to need plastic wear and if I wanted to take the chips and salsa with me. God bless her soul. It's really not her fault she's never been puked on. 

The saint that God sent my way gathered my purse and other paraphernalia and even paid for our meal. She told me to go get my car and that she would meet me at the curb with our food and all my shit. And that she did. 

Kaleb was down to the diaper and since we were still in the mall parking lot, I was still wearing the vomit hoodie. I didn't think the Christmas shoppers wanted to see my bra. I mean, maybe, but probably not. You really never know about society these days.

We got out of the parking lot and onto the road when the hoodie came off. Y'all, in my defense, there was so much vomit, I couldn't even put my seatbelt on and you know the saying, "click it or ticket." How much better would that have made my night if I were to get pulled over? Wearing my bra.

"30yr old mother gets pulled over for speeding and is only wearing a bra and jeans. Passenger seat was full of vomit clothing, a to-go container of Mexican food and very questionable Santa photos"

Also in my defense, it was a really foggy night so no one was able to see into my car anyways. Even if they did, I had one of my nicer bra's on so I would've been okay. Because that's important.

We were minutes from the house and Kaleb told me that he stinks. I said, "Yeah I know baby, mommy stinks too." He said, "no I have a stinky hiney." Well that's just fantastic. Vomit king was loading his diaper with diarrhea. 

Thankfully we made it home without getting pulled over. I had to accomplish getting all of our clothes and a naked Kaleb out of the car before the neighbors saw me. And/or called CPS on me because it was 30 degrees and my child was without clothing. 

The clothes went straight to the washer and the queso lovers went straight to the shower. This pretty much concludes all the important events that happened on the night we went to meet Santa. Life tried to pull one over on us but we lived to tell about it because that's how we roll.

Queso saint, if you are reading this, I really wanted to hug you. And then cry. You made a very stressful and slightly embarrassing moment, smooth. Plus you paid for our food that Kaleb wanted to eat when we got home because, well, of course, his stomach was all over my hoodie. I pray that Karma, Santa, and/or Jesus treats you well for this act of kindness. You deserve it.

As for myself, it'll be some time before I can order the queso again and honestly, this makes me a little sad because lawd, I love queso. I may just have to put my big girl panties on and power through. Kaleb has no after effects. 

Truly, a magical night for me and the Kman. We might not have gotten into the holiday spirit but we met Santa and made memories, damnit. 

Take THAT, widowedlife.

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