By Kristy Glass
My day started with a weird smell. It was the smell of puke. You know when you smell dog crap and you keep smelling it and wonder where that smell is coming from and finally realize the reason it is not going away is because you stepped in it? I sort of had that feeling. Like, “Did I step in puke and not notice it?” (Believe it or not, stepping in puke is not uncommon in large cities.) Eventually the smell went away. Turns out however, it was a foreshadowing of events to come.
Picture this: I am sitting in the two-seater– thank Heavens– of a New York City subway car next to daughter #1 (almost 4 years old) with daughter #2 (10 months) on my lap. We are on our way to a casting call that involves all three of us, which is a rarity and D #1 is excited. She has recently shown an interest in following in my footsteps, which makes me excited.
D #1 gets sleepy as the casting is smack dab in the middle of naptime (of course), and lays down on my lap. Some noisy kids, talking with too many obscenities, enter the car and she sits up complaining of their talking. I start singing a church hymn to counter the obscenities and then it happens.
All this in slow motion.
“Mom, my tummy hurts.”
BLAGH. All over my coat.
BLAGH. All over her coat.
BLAGH. All over the seat.
By this time, I have her standing up.
BLAGH. All over the floor.
I have her step out of the way and while I am trying to figure out what just happened and then how I am going to deal with it, there is one more.
BLAGH.
So now it is all over the two of us, the seat, and the floor. HOLY MOTHER OF PUKE.
I see that the entire car of riders is looking at me with that look.
Without time to think, I scream, “Who’s going to hold the baby?” A nice lady volunteers. Then I survey what is in my diaper bag: a pocket pack of Kleenex, a burp cloth, a few small bibs and one diaper. All of which I was willing to sacrifice, but where to put the soiled items? Yes, there are no wipes. Who knows why.
My next question to the crowd, “Does anyone have a plastic bag?” I ask this twice. I end up with a grocery sak and an umbrella cover.
Cleaning commences. D #2 is content with whomever has her, D #1 is still standing exactly where I left her…covered. I first clean up myself–thank you, nylon coat. It wipes right off.
Then I start on the seat. At this point, people from the car are depositing their various packets of travel Kleenex and random fast food napkins. Bless them. If I were them, I seriously would have run off the train.
Then the gagging begins. I start an outloud mantra. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.” I breathe, but not too deep, because I don’t want to smell it.
Then I clean up D #1. Again, the fabric was forgiving, but not so much on the fluffy cuffs and hood. Yuck. D #1 finally says, “Mom, I throwed up because I ate too much.” I have no recollection of my response. I think it was, “I can do this.”
The lady who grabbed D #2 has now handed her off and– bless her soul– is gathering the chunks with me.
We finish the task in probably only 3 or 4 stops. She then bestows us both with some anti-bacterial gel, which I slather on my hands and on the seat. I set D #1 back down, retrieve D #2, while the second holder of D #2 takes the bag full of puke and throws it out for me on her way to wherever she was going.
I am surprised I did not cry. I guess gagging is worse.
I kissed that sweet D #1 and asked, “Do you want to go home or go to the audition? (We were almost there, after all.) She replied, in her sweet, little just-thrown-up voice, “Audition.”
Ahhh, truly a girl after my own heart. What a trooper. And I mean the both of us.
Kristy Glass with her two daughters and husband
Kristy Glass
Queens, NY
Kristy Glass resides in Queens, NY with her two daughters and husband. She is a mother, model, actor and singer. Read more about her career at www.kristyglass.com and more about how she balances it all at www.glassposse.com.
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