Sunday, August 26, 2007

Vomit, part ii or iii or iv

More vomit.

Much, much more.

To her credit, Khubz looked much more upset about puking on me than she ever had before. It was sort of a slow-motion, marathon vomit. She was nursing and swallowing lots of mucus (again) and sat up looking at me like I'd said "I'm thinking about transitioning to a man" Calm down, folks, this is not meant to shock you with transphobia. it's meant to shock you because of my great antipathy (some would say loathing) of masculinities.

So she had this surprised, confused look on her face. She sunk her chin down into her neck and up came round one of vomit. I'd been nursing (most of the day) and so I didn't have a shirt on.
Try to be a good mommy, I tell myself, and banish both my sigh and my grimace. "You're okay. Are you okay? You're okay. Are you okay?" Each of these was punctuated by another round of vomit from the child. At that point it was a two mommy job.

Scully was downstairs tackling Mt. Laundry so I had to stomp on the floor to get her attention. Classy, I know. Every woman loves to be interrupted while doing laundry by her partner banging on the floor. And every woman is even more overjoyed when she comes up from the basement to find her partner covered, covered in vomit and her infant child still heaving. That same every woman feels completely fulfilled when (once the child is done & wiped down) she gets to return to the laundry with more dirty clothes--especially since these ones had the aforementioned snotty, milky vomit all over them.

Khubz and I plunked down in the bathtub together. We hadn't done this in a while. It was sort of nice because she loves to splash and play in water. I just had to pretend that I wasn't in the tub to wash off vomit and bathe in water that she was likely peeing in. When did I get so squeamish?

Oh well. She cried for an hour and a half before falling asleep. It was awful. I'd rather be vomited on.

(note to future self, don't forget to link to that statement in future vomit-related posts.)

On another note:
The poet of the day is Sonia Sanchez

I'm listening to the Sweet Honey song where she reads this poem over their singing. Marvelous.

I do so much better with poetry.
It is the opposite of a crying baby, a political campaign, horns honking outside or the musak i'm subjected to while being on hold.

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