Projectile detected…3:00 o’clock!
I am the middle of the night feeding pro in the house. Sarah gets up early, so she takes care of the butt crack of dawn feeding. But if you read this you know that already.
Last night Tony was a little…well…awake. He talks to himself when he wakes up, or grunts. So by the time the 3: oo am feeding came up, I had already been up and down a few times. So I was slightly sleepy.
Tony ate like he hadn’t in days, and then was wide awake. We played some. I held him and sang to him. He was in a very good mood. It made me less sleepy, but still, sleepy none the less.
Then I heard it. As I reclined on the couch and he lay on my chest, I heard it. It was this cross between a cough and a burp. A noise made in the back of the throat which means…”MOVE!!!”. I was no longer sleepy at all.
Wow! I knew I had only feed him 6 ounces, but a gallon of formula and bile came out of that sweet little mouth that, only moments earlier, had been laughing and cooing. It hit my chest and soaked every part of my torso. I laid him down, after the explosion, and tried to take the shirt off without getting the stuff all over my head and hair. It didn’t happen. I grabbed the “Wet Ones” and gave myself an unsatisfying sponge bath, while standing in the kitchen.
The whole time, I heard this cute little voice giggling in the back ground. He knows funny.
May 7th, 2008 at 11:36 pm
You’d think the maternity wards and birthing centres would issue us parents with hazmat suits upon the birth of our little ones, wouldn’t you.
But oh, no, we have to wear kid vomit instead. I’m nodding sympathetically … with some o’ that sympathy pain you write about.
May 8th, 2008 at 2:43 pm
i always seem to get vomit in my shoe…