I have no creative title for this because Harrison just puked in my mouth.

My child threw up in my mouth today.

You read that correctly.

MY CHILD.  THREW UP. IN MY MOUTH.

It started off so sweetly innocent.  He sat on the bed, shaking a sock happily while I folded laundry & I got the urge to learn over to play with him.  So I did.  Because I don’t fight those urges – I soak them up when they come crashing in.  So we’re giggling, smothering eachother in slobber, I tickle him, &….

MY CHILD THREW UP IN MY MOUTH.

At first, I didn’t know what happened.  ”What the hell is THAT taste?” I asked & then OH EM GEE ::brain click::  The worst part?  Having to hold it in my mouth until I could get to the bathroom to spit it out.  Sour.  Acid.  In my mouth.  If you’ve never tasted regurgitated Nutramigen…well, you’re one lucky folk.  It tastes like hot, moldy, sour athletic socks worn by an entire football team for an entire season, then left out in the summer rains & 105-degree heat, then blended into a HOT MARGARITA OF SKANKY ASS.

I’m not exaggerating.

I ran to the bathroom, Harry on my hip, & spit into the sink.  & spit.  & spit.  & spit until I was pretty sure I was spitting out pieces of my own stomach, & then I took Nate’s powered toothbrush to my teeth, tongue, cheeks, & even that dangly thing in the back (enter gag reflex jokes here, here, & here.  Just don’t tell Nate).  & immediately felt zero sympathy for myself & all the sympathy in the world for Harrison, who lives with this on a daily basis.  No wonder he’s so pissy sometimes.

As someone so aptly deemed it on Twitter, I feel like I just got hazed into parenthood.  7 months later.

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 I have no creative title for this because Harrison just puked in my mouth.

Murphey's Law of baby vomit.

CLOSED

Y’all…I’m dying.  DYING of laughter.  If you have not gone through & read the vomit stories, PLEASE DO IT on this lovely Friday afternoon.  It is so worth it & will make you smile.  People with vomit in their mouths.  Someone compared the taste of Alimentum to “Tossing A Salad.”  & poor Amy got barfed all over on her wedding day.

They were all so fantastic that I used Random.org & #232, aka Katy & her daughter, Aidan, are the winners! Katie, please email me at blairbear111@gmail.com & we’ll get it sent out to you!  Congratulations!

_________________________________

As a working mom, I’m about to let you in on one of my best-kept secrets.  This bad boy:

img 3231 polaroid Murphey's Law of baby vomit.A Burp Blanket, compliments of Sullivan & Sawyer.  A few weeks ago, I was lamenting on how often I come to work with vomit on my shoulder.  & sometimes down my back because Harrison has this incredible talent of aiming right over the shoulder.  So regular burp cloths, even cloth diapers, simply don’t cut it.  Really, he’s better than most Olympians & I’m pretty sure he’d be on the gold medal stand in Baby Olympics.  Gross, right?  But that’s what happens when you a) have a child & b) have a child with reflux.  You get puked on.  & it’s pretty much LAW that the moment you put on something nice & are two steps from your front door, your child pulls a Reagan & you need a young priest & an old priest to get the peas off your t-shirt.

The owner of Sullivan & Sawyer had the same issue, saying, “I was just sick of getting barfed on & it all going on my shoulder & down my chest.”  & so the Burp blanket was born.  (side note: this is NOT a sling. please do not carry your child,small canine, or grocery produce in it)

img 3230 pol Murphey's Law of baby vomit.& my dry cleaning bill thanks it.  Profusely.

She also makes paci ties that are DARLING & half the price of ones you find in store (meaning that Harrison’s paci stays on his person & not on the floor of Baby Gap, praise God) & my personal favorite, the bib clips:

bib clips 300x188 Murphey's Law of baby vomit.Let’s say you’re out to dinner or it is laundry day & the only thing clean is a dish towel.  It’s chicken-rice from a jar time for the tot, so you snag the dish towel, clip each end, & BAM! you have a bib.

(enter in where I wish I was this talented & creative to think of such things!)

So here’s the awesome news for readers – Sullivan & Sawyer are sponsoring a give-away!  One lucky reader will win a Burp Wrap, Paci Tie, & Bib Clip!  All you need to do is comment here with your best baby vom story (whether it’s your kid,  something you saw in Target, or maybe your worst fear for being puked on), tell me which of the patterns below you love most,  and follow me on Twitter.

1)  Leave a comment for your story
3)  Leave a comment saying which pattern you adore.
2)  Leave a comment that says you follow me on Twitter (leave your Twitter address!)

Enter in once, enter in three times…it’s up to you, & each comment counts as one entry!

I’ll pick the winner on Friday.  Best of luck!

972268j 20 Murphey's Law of baby vomit.

p.s.  Canadians, you are in luck!  You also qualify!  So to be a lawful citizen, please leave the answer to 2+2= __ at the end of your entries.  You know, but put the number that 2+ 2 equals.  Yes, I’m serious.

My day sucked. But you know what sucks more? A Dyson.

Reasons My Day Sucked, by Blair.  As an alternative to a written composition by Ralphie Parker.

1.  At 7:15am, Harrison threw up all over me mid-bottle.  I’m talking vomit over his head, onto my arm, down my leg, onto the couch.  & then he started crying.

2.  He screamed the entire morning.  Regardless of full belly, dry diaper, & jiggling Momma.

3.  After six years, my iPod stuttered it’s final breath.  RIP, original pink iPod mini. ::plays taps::

4.  Dr. Hottie thinks that Harrison’s reflux is more intense than we originally thought.  So Harrison is now on Prilosec, a stronger drug.  With potentially a switch to soy formula next week.

5.  Did I mention that insurance does not cover Prilosec?

6.  Harrison got three vaccines.  THEY STUCK NEEDLES INTO MY BABY TODAY.  He was fine after a quick sob into my shoulder & a shot of Tylenol at 4pm.  Momma, on the other hand, is still reeling from her stream of tears at seeing the dried blood on his band-aid this morning.

7.  I got called into work.  Yeah.

8.  Where passive-aggressive behavior ruled on post-it notes.

9.  We have a forecast for potential winter weather.  Which meant Super Target was an EFFING MADHOUSE for milk & bread.  (don’t ask, it’s a Southern thing)  & all I needed was some coffee for tomorrow morning.  Needless to say, we had frozen pizza for dinner.  & I had a rather large shot of lemon vodka in cranberry juice.  But a segway smooth like a punch to the stomach, we shall discuss something that sucks more.  In a good way.

No, not that.  You dirty, dirty people!  Get your minds from the gutters!  Perverts!!

The kind of glorious, amazing suck that only comes from a Dyson vacuum.  I know first-hand the awesome that is Dyson.  My mother has one, & sometimes when I’m at The Momma’s house, I volunteer to vacuum.  Yes, I do have OCD tendencies that may require my children to need therapy in the future, but it’s more than being a neat-freak.  THESE VACUUMS ARE INCREDIBLE.  Sweet, sweet hum while they work, sucking up every little speck of dust & dead carpet-choking dog hair.  Alas, I am stuck with this ol’ clunker:

nov 23 20081 My day sucked.  But you know what sucks more?  A Dyson.

Listen, Hoover.  We had a good run, including several laps over your cord, which led to Nate doing quick emergency surgery with electric tape to prevent me blowing our casa into the sky.  Or burning it down to the ground.  Needless to say, Hoover is on life support but with that little blonde kid in the next room, affording a Dyson is laughable for the next…I dunno, 10 years.  Enter in my creepy internet friend buddy Jill from BabyRabies.com.   & her amazing give-away where there is potential for a Dyson to be underneath my tree in a week.  PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE, GOD.  PLEASE LET ME WIN.

I promise if I win, I won’t do this to the Dyson:

img 2789 My day sucked.  But you know what sucks more?  A Dyson.

Because their level of suckage deserves more respect.

Tag-team, back again.

I had an entire post planned out, plus a letter to HJ, but it turns out that my body has been tag-teamed by both intestinal outlets & I have spent the past 15 hours begging God for mercy.

Just fyi, spaghetti is not easy to clean up when you expel it into a bathtub.  & Gatorade changes the color of your poop when your system is screaming so loudly that it can’t pass Go! or collect $200.
On the plus side, I have learned that this is a massive stomach virus circling my work industry (K, write that down) & that it’s usually done with in 24-48 hours.  This is uber-comforting considering I spent the majority of last night sobbing that I was about to miscarry again after my body cleaned itself out.

::lovingly pats ute above the pubic bone:: Good thing we see HJ in just 3 days icon smile Tag team, back again.

Cool things. Literally.

This kid is making me sick. Ridiculously, horribly sick.   I have puked more with this baby in 8 weeks than I did in an entire 11 weeks with Harpie.  Thankfully, I have an “in” on the Zofran black market.

Which is why I don’t blog much.  Because I am too busy dry-heaving over my trash can during the day, & lying on my couch at night begging Nate for a glass of milk….or a knife to stab myself with.   But if I were to blog religiously, it would be about vomit.  & how I spent the majority of Sunday in bed, dry heaving for endless hours on my 400 thread-count sheets.  And how I keep puking up 1/3 of dinner on a nightly basis, even though cupcakes go down & stay down with ease.

Cold things are also very, very tasty.  Milkshakes.  Cold milk.  Very cold deli meat.  Cold fruit.  Cold cereal with very cold milk.  Cold pasta salad.  Chilled potato salad.  Pimento cheese, always served very cold.  Crisp, cold lettuce with Ranch dressing that’s just above freezing temperature.
These are a few of my favorite things.
Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance