I looked into her eyes, and there was sadness.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
Nothing but a blank stare. She looked pale, her eyes droopy. In the ten seconds before it happened she just kept shaking her head signaling, no.no.no.
I leaned over to hold her face, to beg her to tell me what was making her so gloomy. Then.. . . .
In front of . . . .20 or so onlookers.
It was the projectile type.
The type that flies out of the mouth, makes an arch, and then jets onto the wall, splashes onto the floor, and smells like death.
It wouldn’t stop.
I pulled her to me, and whispered, “Oh baby. Are you okay?”
And then she thew up again. This time down my shirt, in the open spot between my boobs and my bra. It held the throw up just like a cup.
I sat the baby on the floor. Turned her face into the corner. “Its okay sweetheart. Mommy is going to get you some medicine.” Phoebe was looking bluer and bluer.
I yelled to the 7 year old. “Bella, go get some paper towels.”
She returned swiftly, 10 seconds later with one tiny piece of paper towel.
“Bells, does that look like it’s going to pick up all this???????”
“THEN GO! Get me a A LOT. MORE THAN YOU THINK. And run! No! Don’t run. We’ll call attention to ourselves. Walk fast.”
And ten seconds later she’s back, lickety split, with 500,000 paper towels. All dragging behind her, on the gym floor, in the middle of a basketball drill, all ribboning on the floor behind her and around the corner.
Yeah. Way to look inconspicuous.
I clean up the mess.
Walk my stinky walk of shame holding my baby as I try not to slip and fall (cause its on my shoes too) as I slink by the other parents.
I take the baby to the car.
Warwick, shows up just in the knick of time (late from his business trip), so I’m able to bring her home.
I throw all our clothes in the wash, bathe her, kiss her, and snuggle with her and a barf bucket on the couch while we watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.
She rests her head on my shoulder, and pulls her tiny little hands around to stroke my face. Every now and then she giggles, or she mumbles what a bad woggy Snoopy is.
Towards the end, she reaches up and kisses me on my cheek.
She looks at me for a moment, and says “Thank you Mama.”
And I tear up.
She didn’t have to thank me. I’m her Mama. I love her. I would do anything for her.
The next morning when I asked her if her tummy still hurts, she told me “No. It’s all better.”
And then she said it again.
“Thank you Mama.” And I started to cry.
She’s so little to love so much.
I’ll gladly clean up her crap anyday.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
It’s crazy cakes over here I tell you.
Soledad just threw up in the car last night. Guess we’ve got the stomach bug going around my house.
Luckily, it appears as if the vomiting only occurs in one short time period, and then it’s over.
So I’ll be cleaning up around here and trying to get ready for the big Christmas Day!!!
Nana comes manana. I’m so excited.
So in addition to disinfecting the house so we don’t spread our germy germs, I think I might need to clean out my microwave so I don’t gross Nana the heck out.
It totally looks like our crazy cakes exploded all over it.
How to Steam Clean Your Microwave Lickety Split with Vinegar and Water
What You Need:
3/4 cup vinegar
3/4 cup water
Glass microwave-safe bowl (I use a 2 cup pyrex measuring cup)
What To Do:
1. In your small microwaveable glass bowl mix 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar and 1/2 cup water in a microwave-safe bowl.
2.Bring it to a rolling boil inside the microwave (This takes about 3-5 minutes).
3. The steam will loosen baked-on food. Wipe clean.