stealing a moment of time

When my daughter wakes from her nap, she makes noises in her room until I come in. I never wait until she cries because 1) she's really patient, and I think it would take her a long time to cry (her noises do get more insistent if I try to finish up what I'm doing), and 2) I don't want her to think that crying is a good way to get my attention (we reinforce that lesson enough when trying to put her down for sleep). When I walk in the door she gets incredibly excited, and lifts her arms and head up and kicks non-stop, which makes it a little tricky to pick her up. But, the moment I have her, she gets calm, and rests her head on my shoulder for a moment or two. I hold still, and revel in it, because I know that very soon she will lift her head up again, her legs will start kicking again, and it will be time to go, go, go! I love that moment.

This is a picture that my friend Wendolyn took of that moment (except this is the pre-nap moment, which is also good).


And this was going to be my post today. A golden picture of the finer moments of motherhood - until I put her to bed.

Tonight during our still moment, just before I lay her down for bed, she threw up all over me. This was not a petite spit-up, that has happened once or twice in her life. This was not a big spit-up, that leaves a mark on my clothes. This was a dumping of all that was in her stomach - which was a full eight ounces of formula, and various other things. It was all over her, all down my side, and all over my feet.

For some reason I expected to not be grossed out. This is my child, I carried her, I birthed her, I would do anything for her. But I was grossed out by all that was covering her, me and the floor. And I was inexplicably disappointed in myself for feeling that way.

My saint of a husband saw my dispair, and cleaned us all up for me. He is so very good. And my daughter is fine. She did not act sick before or after. She just clearly shouldn't have had that bottle right then.