She offered me a hug after eating & drinking (pay attention to those verbs) lunch. So I squeezed her gently, as I always do. It's a security issue for her, I do believe.
A hug wasn't good enough this time though.
As I snuggled my little girl, a peculiar, warm sensation trickled down my back.
I leaned my Mercedes forward to assess the situation, only to discover she had vomited, yet again, down the backside of me. But she didn't stop there. As I was trying to plan an action quickly (without gagging or hurling myself), she then projectile vomited all over the front of me. My face. My glasses. My neck. Down my shirt. In between my legs, my sweats & all over the glider.
For whatever reason though, that still wasn't good enough. As I rapidly pushed her straight out & away from me, & as I was just beginning to catch a whiff of vomit aroma in my hair (& dripping from...my hair), she did it again. All over the carpet. And then some.
Now because I am a gagger, hubby handles these situations like a man. A real champ. Me, not so much. But hubby is on a plane. Coming home. I had no choice but to Cowgirl Up & be a woman. So I did. With Bentley's help. LOL That'll teach him to disobey.
I'll leave out the details 'cause they ain't pretty. Because these episodes happen quite frequently in our home, I almost took a photo to share with you all. Because posts without photos are lame & I'm in a bad habit of not posting enough photos. I thought this time though you might actually appreciate a photoless post.
Maybe next time.
1 comment:
The same thing happened to me one night with Luke a couple years ago. Eric wasn't home and I was a total wreck. I just remember standing in the shower holding Luke trying to get the yuck out of my hair and crying. I was ready to just throw the rocking chair away because I didn't know how it was ever going to get clean. But my parents came over and Eric got home and voila, the chair was cleaned. It had and has never been that bad again.
No fun at all.
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