
When I was pregnant with Megan and would tell people about how I was afraid I'd be grossed out by poop, spit up, and other bodily fluids, everyone said, "it's different when it's your own kid." And I thought, "no way." My mom said that when I was little she would hold my hair back while I was throwing up into the toilet while she did everything she could not to throw up herself. (But I suspect if it had been someone
else's kid, she would have thrown up for sure.)
And these people were right. I've changed countless poopy diapers, and they really don't bother me, but I'm slightly grossed out at the thought of cleaning someone else's kid's poopy diapers. I pick Megan's nose regularly, and I joke that it's my favorite hobby because I just can't stand when she has a snotty-looking nose. But I'm totally grossed out by other people picking their noses.
Well, the other night, the true test happened. Megan woke up in the middle of the night, and as soon as I opened her bedroom door, I could smell it. Vomit. Vomit in her hair, on her clothes, on her hands. She'd thrown up in bed and rolled around in it. And this wasn't breast milk or formula--this was real, honest-to-goodness vomit. Her dinner from a few hours before was easily identifiable in all its glory. Oh. My. Gosh. Disgusting. So what did I do? I cleaned her up, washed her sheets, and held her tight. Poor P.C. held her tight too--and was rewarded by Megan throwing up all over him. But did he freak out? No. He just held her and said, "It's okay, baby. You can throw up on Daddy. Daddy's here." Very impressive, I must say.
So, the stomach bug moved on and two days later she had strep throat. She's on the road to recovery now, although she'll stay home again tomorrow. But you know what? I think P.C. and I passed a very big parent test this time around--but we know deep down that we might not be as tough down the road!
In other news...I'm on week 26 of my pregnancy. Sprout seems to be doing okay. Being home with Megan when she's sick definitely makes it tougher, because the more I pick her up to comfort her, the more uncomfortable I feel. But I'm taking it day by day and feeling pretty good.
Megan is cruising like crazy and standing on her own a little bit. She knows lots of words, too--here are the ones I can think of:
ball (of course)
bat (of course)
book
bath
more
all done
mama
daddy
banana
Megan
milk
nose
eye
hi
bye-bye
no
dog
Bert (her stuffed dog)
duck
And, she's discovered that toys are great, but an empty diaper box is just as much fun.