I have no more than I did before

Considering we embarked on our trip to Oklahoma on the Ides of March, I really wasn't all that surprised to find myself riding down the escalator at the OneOK Building in downtown Tulsa Oklahoma covered in puke. It wasn't my puke. It was the Younger Boy's, who was in my arms. The Elder Boy was there too, only he was a good 10 steps behind us, I'm guessing because of the smell. Perhaps it was out of embarrassment too? Hell, probably both. Can't say I blame him.

Four floors above me, while I gave Wy and myself a whore's bath in the ground floor bathroom, Old Granny was busy rubbing Wy's vomit into the carpet of Rhodes, Hieronymus, Jones, Tucker & Gable conference room.

Don't feel bad for Old Granny. It was her fault Wy puked in the first place. You see Dear Reader, she had given The Little Warrior the damn Lifesaver in a vain attempt to occupy his time as we waited for the lawyer. Suffice to say, it didn't work. So there I was, Mr. Mom, on day one of my solo voyage with my Boy(s). In a fancy law firm in a high rise office building in downtown Tulsa to finalize my Grandma's will and some other fun legal documents that were nothing but bitter reminders that my Mom was dead.

We weren't even paying for the legal services. Oh no. They came compliments of my Father-In-Law who had done a lot of work with that firm in the past. They were doing a favor to him, which he had extended to me to help my Grandma who was sitting in that large conference room like a deer in headlights as the Younger Boy started to choke on the Lifesaver she had just gave him.

He wasn't actually choking. The Lifesaver was stuck in his throat, and it being mint, well it burned. The burning caused the Younger Boy to start hopping around as he said, "It hurts, It hurts..." at which point he started doing a crazy dance and screaming and crying. That set the Elder Boy off - he can be overly protective of his Younger Brother - so he promptly ran up to me shouting, "Daddy, Daddy, Wy's choking!!!! Daddy, Daddy, Wy's going to die!!!"

He wasn't choking per se. He clearly was getting air, and able to scream and yell and cry. I had seen the Elder Boy choke once when he was about a year old. I had to do the baby choking move on him to get the food dislodged. I knew what choking looked like. As I knelt down to get face to face with Wy, I tried to reassure the Elder Boy and calm him, so I could calm The Little Warrior down. At some point, I looked at my Grandma for a little help, but sadly, she was oblivious.

On my knees face to face with Wy, I realized that the entire wall behind me was glass - and that it faced the waiting area. That the receptionist and any guest waiting was right about now, watching our freak show. Fuck me. Sorry Buddy (my father-in-law.)

Wy didn't care about what anyone else was thinking though, he was still in a panic, retching, and freaking out, hard. E too. He was still screaming, "Wy's choking! Wy's dying! Wy's choking! Wy's dying!" Over and over and over.

At that point, I decided to scoop the Younger Boy up in my arms and flip him over and do the head point down, five firm back blows between his shoulder blade move that I had used on The Elder Boy once upon a time. Only I didn't get that far this time. Pretty much as soon as I stood up, and had Wy level to my face, he puked. A lot.

You see Dear Reader, a great novelty on any trip to see Old Granny is being able to jack around with her fancy refrigerator with the automatic ice and water dispenser. The Boy(s) have to get a lot of drinks. Thus the Younger Boy retched up what had to be a quart of water along with one mint flavored Lifesaver that stuck on my sweater.

I would think that would be enough adventure for one Mr. Mom trip. As usual, I would be wrong.

Unbeknownst to me, this past Sunday, on our return voyage, TXDOT decided to shut down I-35 south of Corinth Texas. What would normally be 30 minutes to our front door took us 1 hour and 45 minutes. The Boy(s) literally watched Flushed Away in it's entirety on their DVD player thingy while we crawled 10 miles. There was no where to go. No alternative route. No way out which is why I cringed when The Younger Boy informed me that he had to pee. Sweet mother of all that is good.

I tried in vain to stall him. Divert his attention. I couldn't even get off the highway to let him pee at the side of the road let alone find a service station. It was complete grid lock. The only thing I could do was reach around (his car seat was behind the driver's seat) and fumble around with one hand as I tried to unstrap him, while the Elder Boy informed me I was breaking the law. Nice.

"Wy," I said, "You have options."
Ethan kept at me, "You're breaking the law Daddy."
"Ethan, you aren't helping. Wy, I can't pull over and let you pee, or get off the highway and find a bathroom. I'm sorry, this traffic sucks."
Wy whined, cried, "I got to go pee."
"I know son, I'm sorry. You can try and hold it, pee in your pants..."
"I'M A BIG BOY!"
"OR...you can pee in this empty coffee cup."

Wy peed in the empty cup. My three year old Boy stood between his and E's seat, pulled his pants down and peed as I held the cup in my right hand, and navigated through the stop and go traffic with my left. E even helped, by giving me an on going status report of the level of urine in the cup. It was quite the Team effort and in all honesty, I have to say, I was proud of the Boy(s). Especially Wy who has only been fully potty trained a few months. Now he can piss in a moving, albeit slowly, car!

When Wy was done, I placed the cup full of pee in a cup holder, and reached around and strapped the Boy back into his seat and gave him a celebratory high five which is when I noticed the Trucker to our right. He looked as if he was going to piss his pants - he was laughing so hard - at our rolling freak show.

Until I BLOG again...But now I got all that I need..