Posted by on Mar 29, 2011 in green beans, milk, new mom, sick, vomit | 7 comments

(Don’t you love blog posts that have the word “vomit” in the title?)

Ryan has been under the weather pretty much since he started daycare two months ago. He’s battled one thing after another. He’s had (well, still has) an ear infection. There was the cold(s) (or the flu? We don’t know) that turned into a mild case of RSV. Plus, he might be teething.

During the past two months, he has had fevers, he has been congested, he has had a cough, he has lost his appetite. Over and over.

We thought we’d kind of, sort of, seen it all – at least as far as bodily fluids are concerned.

But we were sorely mistaken.

Last night, Mike was sitting in his man chair, rocking a drowsy, full Ryan. I was in the kitchen, making lunches for the next day. I heard a small cough, a splash and then Mike belted out, “Uh, Meg! Oh, wow. Meg, come here! Help!

His tone indicated a bad case of spit up, so I grabbed a kitchen towel and jogged across the room. When I arrived at the man chair, I was horrified to see Mike and Ryan both huddled forward, surrounded by puddles of formula.

Oh my,” I said. “That’s a lot of spit up.

But he wasn’t done.

Twice more he coughed a dainty little cough and rivers of gunk came shooting out. It was all over Ryan. All over Mike. All over the chair, the floor. It shot across the room and splashed off the TV stand.

The TV stand.

He had projectile vomited the entire contents of an 8-ounce bottle across the room. Complete with his green beans from lunch.

The three of us froze and stared at each other for a moment. Now what? The kitchen towel had nowhere near the absorbency capacity necessary to deal with this situation.

So I grabbed a large beach towel to lay Ryan on. Mike walked off, dripping, to change while I gathered up paper towels and cleaner for the floor. I peeled off the bib off Ryan, who was soaked with milk and flecks of bean.

And then Ryan grinned at me.

He grinned, panted his excited pant, kicked his legs and waved his arms around.

Kid… you just vomited three feet in front of you.

No worries, Ma! Wanna play?!?

No. It’s bedtime.

I considered taking a photo of the carnage, but thoughtfully figured you probably didn’t need to see it. So here’s a cute picture of Ryan instead. You’re welcome.

Bright side: at least the cat wasn’t puking, too.