Middle was acting, well, "Middle-ish" as we were taking pictures and preparing for Christmas Eve Mass.
But I chose to ignore the whining. The complaining. The moping.
The only reason we managed to get this (frameworthy!) shot of the 5 of us is because while my mom was snapping the pictures, my father and brother were acting like fools behind her, making the boyz laugh.
And off to church we headed! All 8 of us.
But when we got there, there
Except for a nice empty front row. ON THE ALTER.
Bravely, the 8 of us trudged up the looooong aisle.
And took our seats on the alter. Off to the side, but still.
Middle immediately slumped down in his seat. And started complaining that his "belly hurt."
And okay, I admit it, I rolled my eyes. I whispered harshly for him to sit up straight.
I absolutely thought he was faking. Even though yes, we've had the stomach bug. But in my defense, he hadn't shown any signs of distress all day! He only started moping about when he had to change into his church clothes! So in my mind, I figured, "Coincidence? I think not."
Hubby and I had whispered conversations about what we should do. Hubby eventually held Middle on his lap. We decided to stick it out. And that Middle was going to be in huDge trouble when we got home for being rotten in church.
Middle started crying.
And Hubby had had enough.
So he whisked Middle into his coat and led him by the hand off the alter. Into the side hallway that faced the chapel, where all the overflow people were sitting.
And it was there that Middle puked.
Hubby said later that he didn't know whether to catch it or let it go, so he kinda did both.
And that everyone sitting in the chapel just stared.
No one made a move.
Eventually, someone just threw some wet wipes in Hubby's direction.
By this time, I had been summoned from where I was still sitting. My neighbor tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "He didn't make it."
So I tentatively entered the hallway where both Hubby and Middle were kneeling. Near a puddle of vomit.
I urged Hubby to JUST GO. GET OUTSIDE.
And then it was just me. Just me and a pack of wet wipes.
On my knees. In front of regurgitated bologna and pickles.
Wet wipes aren't very effective at cleaning puke off carpet, in case you didn't know.
I honestly couldn't make eye contact with anyone.
Eventually, a nice man came up to me with some paper towels. Bless him.
I got it cleaned up. But the smell definitely lingered, believe me.
And headed out to the car. Where Hubby and Middle, both puke-drenched, were waiting to go home.
Hubby and I both agreed that that was DEFINITELY in our Top 5 Most Embarrassing Moments of All Time.