Worst Mommy Moment Yet.

**Saturday, around noon, busiest shopping time ever**
Well, he didn't want to get in the van, first off. He kicked and screamed so I grabbed his feet with one hand and his hands with the other until he submitted to my mommy authority. I guess that is what you do in those situations.
But boy was he mad at me. I apologized when we got to Longs if I had hurt his little hands by squeezing them too hard. We seemed to have made up; he was calm and sweet.
In Longs I told him he either had to hold my hand or I would carry him because we didn't have a basket--I just was getting one thing. One sort of embarrassing, feminine hygiene thing. So I am at the counter checking out with my one sort of embarrassing thing and he lets go of my hand so I pick him up. He wails and whines, "Put me down!" I tighten my grip and his voice gets louder and whinier. I hold on tight, trying to get my credit card out of my wallet and through that darn machine while the cashier looks the other way.
We get out of there in on piece and I think the worst is over, but it's not.
At Trader Joe's he doesn't want to get in the basket. I tell him to sit down. He won't. I start to push him down, and he starts crying. Tears, snot, spit, all start running down his lobster red face. He is really upset.
I think about going home. But with the price of gas and an empty refrigerator, I decide to be tough and in control and ride it out. He continues to wail, and to try to stand up in the cart seat, despite being strapped in.
We're in the produce section and everyone is trying desperately to politely ignore us, but his screams continue to elevate, filling the high ceiling with Ethan-devilness. I decide for the sake of others, I need to get out of here. I reach in to undo the strap and he barfs all over me, right there next to the Fuji apples.
The world stops.
In slow motion I think, he did not just barf.
But he did and it's warm in my hands.
I take a deep breath and with the barf in my hands use my knee to push the cart all the way over to the bathrooms. The good thing about all this is it distracted Ethan from his fit and he is quiet now. He holds his barfy hands out to me and says, "I need to wash my hands."
"Yes you do."
I somehow clean myself and him and our cart and finish shopping in peace, even though we both stink.