This is Joy yesterday. But it is exactly how I looked on Friday in the car to and from the graduation ceremony.
I was so carsick I had to sit in the front seat and take Dramamine, all while talking myself out of vomiting on Sean's immediate family. It was quite a ride. First I'll tell you the plan for that day, and then I'll tell you what actually happened. They are not the same thing.
The plan: ride to Graham with Sean's family. Sean would land in time to drive to the actual ceremony, (started at 8) but miss the dinner beforehand. We would eat then go to the ceremony. Sean would slide into his seat just in time and then I would ride with him from then on. He started work that morning at 3 am, (5 o'clock flight Eastern time,) so driving back that night would have been terrible...mainly because it would have meant me driving. I don't do well late at night, in case you didn't know that already. We planned to stay in a hotel that night then come home the next morning. Mom was at my house with the kids-major detail I left out.
Anyway. Here's what really happened:
We arrived in Graham after a rough ride. I fell out of the car in relief and counted down the hours until Sean made it. He called from Atlanta to say he missed the first flight. He had the jump seat on the next one so we knew he'd make it as long as that flight wasn't cancelled. We started eating dinner. He called again to say they were boarding and that he wouldn't make it to graduation in time even if he got into his car and left right away. He sounded tired, (valid=he was) and when I told him I worried about him driving that tired he said it would be better to just go home. I agreed. We went to graduation and watched my niece graduate. I prepared myself for the ride home. Sean called to tell me he landed and that he was almost home.
I had a moment of envy that he was on solid ground for the night then got myself together and rode home. It was the same route as before but somehow the 100+ degree heat during the graduation made the nausea so much worse. (shocker). To say I kissed the ground once we made it to Sean's parents house would be a lie. But if I'd have felt like kissing a darn thing I would have kissed that ground. I spent the night there and got up the next morning to drive home. Still nauseous. It was the super bowl of carsickness.
Recounting the story to Sean that morning gave me great clarity and a good plan for how to avoid problems like this in the future: drive everywhere from now on and keep Dramamine in my purse in case driving is impossible.
If there was a question about my physical and/or mental toughness, this experience sealed the deal: I have a limit. I know it's gotten worse over time so I'm dreading my first boat ride. Not that I have one planned. You know what I mean. The moral of the story is that I'm a weakling.