BARF

We just took a quick trip to New York. It was a lovely time, or, as you like to say these days, "AMAZING." (Some other new favorite words and phrases... "I'm so excited!" and "stupendous" - seriously.) We spent 15 of the 3 days we were gone in airports or on planes, but you flew like a champ! Until. Until the last 5 minutes of our return flight... when air pockets and too much milk and jet lag and lord knows what else got to you, and got to your tummy, and you threw up. On me. With one, quick "BLAH" I had vomit all over my shirt, soaking my hair, on my backside and in my underpants. It was actually quite impressive how you managed to get nothing on the chair or yourself. I took it all for the team. Your welcome American Airlines flight attendants. Did I mention who watched the whole thing go down?


That's right, she did. Sharon Stone was on our plane - and actually asked me if she could help as we de-boarded. Looking back, I should have asked for the shirt off her back, huh? Next time.

Step 1: Make a Drink.

A couple of weeks ago, you threw up milk all over your new Britax car seat.


Now, you really want to wash a curdled-milk-stained car seat right away, or else the smell turns into something awful. So that's what we did. Well, that's what your father did while I took you to the beach. (I know, hardly seems fair, right? But it was Mother's Day weekend and your father is a saint.)

Not an easy task, washing this boat of a car seat. It took your dad 3 different phone calls to stores and a web video to figure out how to remove the covering. And putting it all back together once everything had been hand-washed? Forget about it. I used to think Ikea assembly was hard. Not anymore.


(Image here)

Barfy Barf

I think I'm a pretty good mom to you. I do lots of things right. Whatever "right" means. What I'm trying to say is, I think I'm getting the hang of this parenting job, and I think we make a pretty good team, me and you.

Unless, UNLESS, we are talking about vomit. I am terrible at this part of motherhood.


I have always had a queasy spot for vomit, pun intended. It's just so gross. I was that friend in college that handed my girlfriend a hair tie and then bolted. I think that the film and television industry should be required to post a running ticker, warning viewers of any upcoming spew.

But I guess I've always figured that when I became a mother, all of that would change. I'd be this Super Mom, a beacon of strength with throw up in her hair and heels on her feet.

I managed the spit up part just fine. But this barfy barf stage is new. It's happened twice now. Over-eating and a bumpy car ride. Your dad was there to help with the over-eating incident but the car ride, that was just moi. You were sitting in a grocery cart when it happened (note to self: kids throw up in grocery carts, WIPE THEM OFF BEFORE USE). For a brief moment, we both just stared at each other. I was thinking, hmm, what to do, that's icky. And you were thinking, Jesus mom, do something, this is icky! So I cleaned you up and awkwardly carried you to the car in a way that made it look like I'd never held a baby before.


I will get better at this, I will. Because something tells me this stage will last forever.

Welcome Spring 2010...

I have been slacking on my letters to you. Bad Mommy. But there has been a lot going on lately... let me try and catch you up.

YOUR FIRST BIRTHDAY


You turned 1. I made a cake. You wanted nothing to do with it. For some reason, I'm still having a hard time coping with this. Which is stupid. As a mother, I should be thrilled that you're not into sugar yet. But I was so hoping for that picture of you, shirtless, pointy birthday hat strangling your neck, colorful cake and frosting in your eyeballs, ears, hair, etc. What's wrong with wanting that memory? Oh well. I guess I'll just take a picture of your father doing that stuff.

YOU GOT SICK, AND THEN YOU GOT SICK AGAIN


This experience truly brought out the "first time parents" in your father and I. We had books out, google up, our mom's on hold, and the drugstore in our house. And then we got sick. Cousins got sick, aunties got sick, grandmas got sick. AND, apparently, this will happen again, we've been told. Unless, of course, I try to keep you in one of these:


I TOURED A PRESCHOOL


Yes, that's right, a preschool that you won't even be attending for another 2.5 years. We have been told, however, that you are supposed to "develop a relationship" with the schools in your area around the time your child turns 1. Your father and I thought that was ridiculous, hilarious, stupid, and then we went along with it. I actually just got back from the tour, and I saw your whole life flash before my eyes. Stay little forever, please.

This little piggy...

A lot of important stuff happened the year you were born.

This man took office as the first African American President of the United States...

A little boy pretended to float away in a large helium balloon that resembled a flying saucer. The King of Pop, Michael Jackson died.

Our country was in a recession...

After a flock of geese attacked a plane's engine, the pilot safely landed it in the Hudson River.

AND... the SWINE FLU struck.

Swine influenza virus is any strain of the influenza family of viruses that is endemic in pigs. I copied and pasted that from Wikipedia. Never do that, son. Anyone can edit a Wikipedia page. It's just rubbish, a useless resource I use all of the time. No, you will go to a library and use a real encyclopedia for god's sake.

It's been pretty frightening, actually. The outbreak began in the spring, right after you were born. I already was a freak about people touching you, asking them to wash their hands in a pot of boiling water. Throw a pending global pandemic on top of my existing new mother fears and forget it... we locked you in a basement for your first 3 months of life.

Ok you got me, we didn't really do that. But it was still scary for awhile. Then, it seemed to go away. We enjoyed our hand sanitizer-free summer days, frolicking around without a care in the world! Until, fall came and with that, the flu season. Piggy flu popped up again, and this time it was everywhere. I know a guy who knows a girl who saw on Facebook that this other guy has it. Yeah, that bad.

But DO NOT FRET, my son, because today your father and I got our vaccines! No, they didn't have one for you, so I guess you can fret a little. But, I WILL NOT SLEEP until you've had your shot. Well, I'll sleep a little, because it's good for my immune system, but you know what I mean. Besides, it's good news for you that I've had my shot especially, because I'm still nursing you. No Swine Flu is entering this house. The only piggy you'll ever hear about is the one that goes wee wee wee all the way home.