Today, M and I met at the mall for a little catch-up time. We walked, chatted and ate a delicious Chick-fil-A lunch. Everything was going really great until it came time for Maverick's lunch. Lets set the scene:
It was about 1:15 p.m. on a chilly, rainy Thursday. Naturally, the mall was semi-crowded as folks ran some quick errands on their lunch hour. We were sitting on a bench, picking out the girls who had a great life going based solely upon their sense of style, chicness and fashion, as Goosey burned off some extra energy (thanks to M sharing her chocolate candy) running between stores. Maverick was doing a great job noshing away on his bottle, when all of the sudden, out of no where, he projectile vomited. White, curdled milk was everywhere; Maverick's face and clothes were COVERED, spit-up landed on my shirt, leggings and boots. And to make matters worse, Goosey was just running over to tell us something, when she slipped on and fell into the large puddle of spit-up that landed on the floor. Surprisingly, as strangers surveyed the scene and cast their "this-mom-is-in-way-over-her-head" glares, I wasn't completely mortified or upset. With every second that passed, M and I just laughed harder and harder.
While Maverick looks completely cute and put-together in the picture above, there was nothing cute about the mess and madness we created in the mall. M and I spent the next moments cleaning up the chaos and wishing that we had been able to capture the last few minutes on film because we were sure no one would ever truly believe just how much of a scene it was.
As I was driving home, I realized just how lucky I was to share that moment with M. Only a girlfriend would help clean up sour milk, then help change and clean-up my kids in the back of my minivan, and then hug me despite my spit-up covered shirt. Only with a girlfriend would I be able to look back on a memory like that, and laugh.
Hugs to our followers (especially M),