Don't Hate On My Glamorous Life, Bitches

We learned quickly that the nanosecond we get smug about anything in terms of our child's behavior or development, we get a big sloppy carl from the Fates.

So we should have been smarter than to discuss how lucky we'd been that Avery has never been a vomiter. Truly...not even much spit up when she was a baby.

This discussion took place two nights before we were leaving for Virginia Beach. (All of my childless friends are right now thinking, "what a relief that the sexy talk does not stop when you have kids.") The night before we left, I gave her a bottle of milk before bedtime that was apparently past its expiration date, information that was not gleaned from reading the date on the carton, mind you. (Oh, well, I've always been a visual learner.)

At about 3:00am, I had a horrible dream and asked Tim if he could sleep the guest room so that I could bring Avery into our bed. She was in our bed for about 45 minutes when she woke up projectile vomiting -- regurgitating her body weight in bad milk, pineapple and corn (you're welcome for that). However, she was only warming up.

I cleaned her up and stripped the bed (she was a champ and did not cry). She asked where daddy was and asked to go sleep with him. So, I took her down there and put her in bed with Tim. Another 45 minutes and Old Faithful was spouting again.

Tim stripped the bed and gave her a bath. And was so sweet with Avery. Truly, the man had vomit on half his body and was focused on making sure she was okay and comforting her. (Vomit-soaked husband...hot!). After the bath...one more vomit.

We still rolled the dice and drove to Va. Beach the next day and there was no more puke. Although, her Grandma and Jack thought it would be fun to take her blueberry picking while I napped. (I was up all night with her and it took FIVE HOURS to get there.) While she was blueberry picking, she ate a ton of blueberries...she was starving since she had nothing in her stomach.

The following day? Four (not a typo) blueberry diarrhea diapers whose stench, color, volume and consistency (you're welcome again -- everything I do, I do for you, gentle reader) brought me to my knees.