This whole becoming a mama thing is strange business. The overwhelming love you feel toward this tiny human. The desire to shield and protect him from anything ugly in the world. The joy at seeing him smile and kick his little legs in excitement.
And then there’s the yucky stuff. Crocodile tears from those baby blue eyes. Diaper exposions. Epic spit-up episodes.
This morning after breakfast (for us both) Riley and I were sitting at my computer as I was getting some work done. He was chilling and looking around over my shoulder as I worked one-handed. Then, without warning…up it came. All of his breakfast. All over me, the chair and the carpet. And I Didn’t. Bat. An. Eye. No, ewww! No, leaping out of the chair. Nothing.
I calmly told Riley it was ok and we would get cleaned up. And we did.
It’s really rare for Riley to spit up, let alone lose his whole meal, so that was a new adventure for us. No biggie.
I guess that means I’m part of the club now? I’ve been christened with the almighty projectile vomit. Sweet. Not the first time I’m sure ;)