You know it has been way too long since you last blogged when you go to publish an entry and you somehow loose it and have to start from scratch…..Gah no excuses except a brain full of Hindi and a belly full of baby.

We are in sunny Riviera Maya with front row seats for the end of the world đŸ™‚ Actually, one of the most amazing and kind women I know, that I have the honour of calling a great friend married one awesome guy yesterday, and despite the fact that I resemble something a little more akin to a beached whale than a bridesmaid, I was honoured to be part of her Bridal Party.

No trip to Mexico is complete without someone being sick….usually Tequila is the culprit…sometimes something else. Seeing as my little girl (who still needs a name – suggestions anyone?) is now going to be born in 5 weeks as I will be induced early due to a return of the insanely itchy feet, I am simply enjoying all the virgin drinks…and well, if Max had gotten into the Tequila last night, I would hope I’d had been whisked away by the Mexican police. There may not have been tequila….but there was puke.

I’d gone to get ready with the girls and left Rob with strict instructions aka nagged for 30 minutes:

-Iron your clothes and his.
-Don’t be late.
-If he naps set an alarm.
-Wear this. Don’t wear that.

A few minutes before the wedding was set to begin, I was pleased to see both my boys looking handsome in freshly ironed clothes. I held Max for a few minutes with Rob warning me that he was a little whiny. I handed him back, and busied myself with “wedding about to start in 5 minutes” preparations. Suddenly, the crowd that had been around Max and Rob dispersed, and I looked over to see chunks of french fries on Rob, on Max, and all over the floor (part of me thought rather optimistically that it hadn’t been on my dress (or the bride’s or anyone elses for that matter). It could have been worse. Rob and Max went up, did a record timing wardrobe change, and made it back for the ceremony looking slightly less put together, but just as good as before.

Other than Max’s shouts of “Truck” and “Oh Oh” during the ceremony, everything went splendidly, and it was one of the most touching, personal, and beautiful wedding ceremonies I’d ever attended.

I waved a hello to Max and Rob, and went off with the bridal party for photos. When I returned, my worst fears were confirmed. Projectile vomiting episdoe numero dos had taken place. Luckily, the only direct victims were Rob, Max, and slightly less put together outfit number 2.

Dinner was at 6 so they rested upstairs and returned to the reception in time for the meal. The outfits had digressed to something that was relatively clean, did not smell like puke, and wasn’t a wet bathing suit. For a little while we thought Max had done a miraculous recovery. Unlike any wedding I can bet most of you have ever been to, the bride and groom had to kiss following people going in front of the head table and doing, you guessed it, push-ups. Max had to see this only one or two times before he wanted in on the action. My wobbly 19 month old watched with curiosity, then tried so squat, but realized this wasn’t quite the right action. In the end, he compromised with something that resembled a worm doing a headstand. This carried on through 3 courses at which point he collapsed from partying exhaustion in Rob’s arms. I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t puked for a few hours now and Rob and Max hadn’t missed the important parts of the wedding. The victims had been limited to Rob, Max, their outfits, and a bit of embarressment on my part. Just as I started to relax and think about enjoying the rest of the night with Rob, Max sat up in his unconcious state, and puked. Night. Over.

A few lessons learned:

1. Even if your son/daughter is the non puking type, they will be at one point. They are just waiting for the most inopportune time imaginable to strut their stuff.

2. Choose your friends wisely. As embarrasing as it was, the guests at this wedding were so incredible, kind and understanding (a testament to the beautiful bride, and handsome groom) that what could have been a ridiculously embarrassing and awful situation was simply shrugged off, and when I tried to clean up puke in my dress, I was told “don’t you dare we’ve already asked someone to come by with a mop”.

3. Puke happens….if it hadn’t been Max, it would have been (and there probably was) some non-pregnant party animal. The best part is, 19 month old puke is hangover free.

To the new Mrs. and Mr. Logan, thank-you so much for including us in your most perfect day. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness, adventure and love….oh, and I am sure that somewhere in this enormous world a little toddler puke on your wedding day is a sign of good luck and the decades of happiness you will share.

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