Before getting married or having kids I had had many hangovers where I spent hours laying on the bathroom tile hating tequila or holding back the ponytail of a friend or roommate while she proclaimed her hate for vodka or whatever had been too tasty a drink to just say no. We've all been there.....ok maybe not all but if you haven't been there, let me just tell you - it's not as glamorous as it sounds. So I was no stranger to vomit. I had never been puked ON though - never. Then I became a mother.
Now it's been almost ten years since the day I gave birth to my oldest and I have been yacked on, puked on, barfed on, hurled on, upchucked on, regurgitated on, spewed on, retched on and vomited on. WHY? Are they aiming for me? Is it a present in some third world country?
I've discovered that this is one of the beauties of having a baby - their need to spit up so often is like a practice run for moms. You get so used to having puke (and yes it's puke even though it's just breast milk or formula - still puke!) on you shirt or in your hair or wiping it away with your hand because you don't have a towel (why are we so gross?) that you don't even hiccup the first time a child wakes you up at 2 am saying, "Mommy, I don't feel good." and then yacks on your face - ON IT! In your mind you say, "You passed two bathrooms on your way to me! Seriously?!?"....... but out loud you say, "Oh honey, it's okay. Let's get you to the bathroom."
We once had a party at my house and my then 7 year old daughter was playing, having a great time when suddenly she was standing in front of me. I looked at her face and I just knew - I've seen that look before - and then splat. I don't know why but my first reaction is always to catch it - this does not work, do not try it, all it does is splatter. But this time my hand shot out a little slower than I'd have liked anyway and instead I got it in my shirt - you know where - and in my lap, in my hair, on both arms and all over the floor. My kid? Not a drop on her and after rinsing her mouth and brushing her teeth she was ready to rock again. I had to shower of course. Not cool.
That was actually the last time my daughter threw up on me - since then she's started running to the bathroom on the first time and then I set her up on the couch with a good 80's movie and the bathroom trashcan double-lined with trash bags. But I must admit - as odd as it sounds - I was a little heartbroken the first time she ran to the toilet instead of me. It meant she was relying on herself instead of coming to me at the first sign of discomfort. I was sad. It was the first sign of her becoming an independent person and I know that's what we raise them to do, blah blah, but when you can actually feel them separating from you - it hurts, it's like losing a limb, a puke spraying limb but still!
Weird how not being barfed on makes you realize that your baby is growing up.....next thing you know they're making their own lunch and picking out socks that actually match, finishing their homework without being asked and then dating, driving away to college, coming home just to visit........Oh man, I think I'm having a panic attack. Breathe - just breathe.
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