Thursday, January 19, 2012

Of Barf and Drool

I am getting just a tiny bit sick of getting barfed on. There, I said it. Also, I didn't think I would be making another blog post so soon, but the events of tonight were too good (read: gross, memorable, stinky) that I couldn't pass it up.

This is what happened: I had just gotten home from a great trip to Fashion Place with some good friends and was excited to put Little J in his new polar bear footie (I think I might be making that word up.  It's a onesie with feet in it) that I had bought him so his dad could see how incredibly cute it was when he got home (and thus be ok with the price tag). I proceded to wrangle him into his new clothes and then we high-tailed it to the rocking chair so he could eat. He hadn't eaten in about 6 hours, so needless to say, he was hungry. Hmm...that's putting it mildly. He was more like a ravenous piranha that happened upon a flotilla of dead cows in the Amazon. He nursed through both sides and then, when I sat him up to burp, it happened.

Little J put Old Faithful to shame. There was a fountain, nay, a geyser, of milk mixed with tummy juices that erupted out of him. I have never seen that much barf in my life. It just kept coming and coming and coming and coming. There were probably about 10 ounces that came out of his tummy, onto my lap, the nursing pillow, and his brand new footie.

I didn't know what to do. I sat there in shock a few moments. Little J looked pretty confused too. He's used to eating and then having it actually stay in his stomach. I decided the best way to deal with it was to laugh about it. So I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Little J apparently thought it was pretty hilarious too and giggled about it for a while with me. You could never tell that he just ejected his entire stomach contents on me by looking at him. He was as happy as a clam.  Then, I took off his barf-soaked footie and, with a sigh, put it in the laundry. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

P.S. It turns out that you CAN put rocking chair cushions in the washing machine.
P.P.S If you're wanting to add a picture to a blog post you just wrote about barfing, and didn't take one after the event happened, please don't search google images for pictures of barf. You will be sick afterwards.

3 comments:

  1. Nice post. You're not the first to use the word footie. (Have you heard of the "Hoodie-footie" for adults? Ha!) And I know exactly what that barf experience is like... it happened oh, every day I nursed Sydney (hence why she became a formula baby early on). Did it come out his nose? Good times.

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  2. Yep. Definitely came out his nose. If he does spit up, it's hardly anything, so that's why I was so shocked that he barfed SO much! I think it also somehow got in my hair because the smell is following me around, but I changed my clothes.

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  3. Yeah...the barf gets old REAL fast! And with Jack's acid reflux it seemed never-ending for awhile. Thankfully, that stage does pass! Good to see you can still laugh about it. :)

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