A first time for everything

Rayna's had a lot of "firsts" lately: first time eating seaweed (she loved it), first time swimming in a river (she hated it), first compound phrase ("mo' bips"). And tonight we experienced another first: person-vomit. (That is your warning to not read this, Megan O.)

We had the normal baby spit-ups in the beginning. But those were never really gross, plus they stopped an entire year ago, and since then we've been blessedly free from all forms of throw-up. After Rayna began eating people food, and thus gaining the potential for person-vomit, I started my mental preparations for this day. I always feel like puking after being too close to the offense, so I figured I would call it a success if I made it through without throwing up myself.

Tonight, things started innocently enough. Bath, pajamas, a few minutes of Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree. Just our usual routine. After laying her down, I closed the door and enjoyed the magical sound of silence. We are so lucky to have a child who goes to bed easily. But just as I was deciding which of my nighttime activities to pursue (Iron? No... Clean out the fridge? No... Facebook? Ah, yes, Facebook...) Bowman and I heard the loud thunk made by a human head striking a large object more dense than itself. I closed my eyes and waited in the silence, hoping that the thunk was actually my imagination. Unfortunately for Rayna, it wasn't. I'm not sure how she got the speed while still inside her crib to get that kind of sound out of the wall, but anyway.

Selflessly putting aside my plans to waste my evening away, I comforted my poor child as a good mother would. Bowman came to offer support like a good father would. Then the three of us came to the unanimous decision that a vita-gummy would be the best way to heal this injury. This decision would prove to be our downfall. We have since learned that vita-gummies are best eaten in the morning when the consumer is feeling refreshed and/or no longer sniffling and swallowing small sobs, because somewhere along the way, the slippery gummy went down, came up, went back down, came back up, and then got stuck.

I'm not an expert at reading signs of impending barf, but those mental preparations I talked about proved useful as I noticed the first gags and took Rayna on a mad dash for the bathroom. But not a mad enough dash, because the cursed gummy and her dinner came up in the middle of the living room. Poor Rayna was legitimately terrified of the barf (what is that deadly poison that just came out of my mouth??) and horrified about the mess on the carpet (this is the girl who brings me individual pieces of lint off the couch to put in the trash). We continued the rest of the way to the bathroom and assessed our damage: carpet, pajamas, and blanket.

Carpet, pajamas, no big deal, they wash. But the blanket... disaster. Rayna cried and begged for her soiled "beebee" while Bowman and I exchanged looks, daring each other to try putting her to bed without it. Neither of us was brave enough to try. But we live in a hotel, which limits our laundry options. We could have paid $6 (in quarters, which I don't have, but that I could come up with) to do a load, but we'd still have to wait an hour and a half for the entire cycle. I tried, with a forced nonchalance, to offer Rayna a replacement blankie, but I was flat-out rejected, no questions asked. So, our most realistic option: hand wash the affected corner (only a corner, thank you quick reflexes!) and blow dry the daylights out of it.

Rayna went to bed  in her crib that was pulled at least a foot away from any wall, with a damp, Tide-scented blankie. We were left to reflect on the twin dangers of vita-gummies and non-replaceable comfort objects. And I realized that in the melee of everything, I had forgotten to get grossed out and gaggy myself, and completely avoided the reaction-barf I'd been so afraid of. First person-vomit experience: a success!