Eatpooplove’s Weblog

Puke? Poop? um, try to Love?

Boozo has had some sleeping issues. Well, the Beast and I have created some sleeping issues. Let’s put it that way b/c what five month old has issues that aren’t parentally constructed?  Because of said issues, lazy mama and lazy Beast have been pulling a crying Boozo into bed with them. This has worked, sort of. It hasn’t worked for Brother Dog who gets pushed off his usual spot at the end of the bed and onto the floor and… Somehow the child who can’t crawl and who exhibits no real interest in rolling manages to inch his way closer and closer to me each night until his head is lodged between my boobs (hey, what’s not to love)  and he has essentially pushed me to the far edge of the bed. One night I almost fell off onto our humidifier. Another night both my right leg and arm fell so hard asleep I woke up in a panic that I was paralyzed. But Monday night/early Tuesday morning it was clear to me that the co-sleeping had to stop.   The Beast and Brother Dog woke up at 5:30 for their usual walk. Boozo woke to nurse. I fed him and he was settling into a bit of sleep when he started to cough. Sometimes Boozo activates a very sensitive gag reflex. Often he does. I was lying down nose to nose with Mr. Boozo when I heard the gag reflex. It was too late for me to move. Boozo projectiled his morning feed into his mama’s face.   My own breastmilk actually went into my mouth, regurgitated from my darling’s own tum tum. It went in my eye. Some of it was in my ear. My tshirt was soaked and when I stood up, I found that somehow the projectile had made its way to my pj bottoms. This is one talented puker. He has range.  So I picked him up (he was unphased) and in a haze of tiredness just held him and walked around a bit trying to determine what to do when I felt the bum rumble. Are you kidding me, kid?  I changed him and was reaching for one last wipe when he pooped. In. My. Hand.  I had no words. I. Lost. Speech. How did I, a publishing professional with a semi-fabulous wardrobe, dozens of great friends, a degree from a reputable college, author of a humor book who has appeared on Good Morning America, daughter of fairly cool parents, talented knitter and quilter and generally affable person end up with vomit in my mouth and my underwear and a big turd in my hand BEFORE I have even slurped one ounce of morning coffee? As I attempted to diaper my son one handed I looked at his darling little perfect circle face and the smile that spread across it was the greatest one I’ve seen to date.  


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