September 17
First I have to say Happy Birthday to James. You make 31 look GOOD!
So, how does one celebrate being 31? Oh, the usual - cake, ice cream, presents, friends, cleaning up vomit.
Yup, Zoe decided to get sick after we put her to bed. She threw up 5 times, soiling enough clothing, bedding, and towels for 2 loads of laundry. This was definitely a first for all of us. Zoe was a remarkably clean baby - she never spit up much and she quickly outgrew the spitting up phase. Plus she never had any majorly explosive diapers. I've never thrown away one piece of her clothing because it was too disgusting/stained to salvage. Not even close. And I have to admit I have been
dreading physical ickiness since she was born. I cringe every time someone else talks about their kid puking because I was just sure I would flip out the first time it happened to me.
And I guess I did, for about a tenth of a second after James announced that Zoe had just thrown up everywhere. And then some secret compartment of my brain which I've never had to use before just kicked into gear and there I was, cleaning up upchuckings for the better part of the night, never minding it once.
Oddly enough, it gave me hope for myself as a mother. I'm a lot stronger than I thought I would be and I found myself proud as I hurried to change Zoe's pajamas and bedding without spreading the mess too much farther.
James was amazing as well. Apparently his brain has some unused portion as well, just waiting to shine. If it had happened on my birthday I probably would have cried. I guess he just figured that his birthday made him want to puke, so why should it have a different effect on anyone else?
After all was said and puked, Zoe is feeling much better and James is happy knowing that he won't have to endure another birthday for another year.