My first experience with REAL vomit: Katie vs. the World

This weekend has been a particularly eventful one. Last week, Mike had a cold and sore throat. He did his best, but he ended up giving Katie his cold and me his sore throat. What could be more fun?

Now let me tell you how Katie let us know she had a cold . . .

Saturday night, we had some friends over to play games (hallelujah! A social life!). I spent most of the time holding Katie because (for some unfathomable reason) she had been rather clingy all day. When they left our house, Katie started making some gagging noises, so I was patting her back to help. They hadn't even gotten all the way down our stairs (we can hear rather well) when she aimed down my shirt and vomited the entire contents of her digestive system. Every piece of clothing I was wearing (mostly the articles located at the down-my-shirt area) became drenched in a substance that smelled like sour milk and had the consistency of raw egg. I had to shower and put on new underwear. Did I mention that she also got the carpet and Mike's shirt because he was standing too close?

Note: Let me clarify the title of this post. As I am the oldest of seven children, this was NOT my first experience being puked on. Just my first as a mother. That being said, on the rankings of epic being-puked-on, this comes in second. First is still the time Emma Grace puked several plates worth of half-digested spaghetti on my lap. She was, like, three, so she probably doesn't remember. But oh, I do.

Anyhow, we used our highly evolved brains to deduce that the mucous in her throat made her puke (hence the raw egg consistency) and that she wasn't having stomach problems--mostly because as soon as she was done puking she expected me to feed her. Geez, kid.

On another completely unrelated note, Happy (the day after) Valentine's Day! I hope your day was full of chocolate and conversation hearts and less puke than mine. Due to our recent acquiring of a sick baby, we stayed home. But that didn't stop my handsome husband from getting Carraba's to-go and watching Letters to Juliet with me. I think he was just disappointed that I spent most of the movie snuggling the aforementioned sick baby instead of snuggling him. Sorry, handsome.

One final note: Katie also started smiling on purpose this weekend. Guess what she finds funny? That's right, the snot sucker. Especially when I'm using it on her. Weirdo . . .