I thought I was pretty much okay with anything my daughter could throw at me. I've been puked, pooped, peed, snotted, drooled and cried on. I have accidentally stuck my finger into dirty diapers and walked around with spit-up on my shirt for the better part of a day before realizing it. I have mocked my husband when he gagged as he changed a poopie diaper. I have told him off in language so colorful it is not appropriate for a family blog when he woke me up to ask me to change a poopie diaper because he "just didn't think he could take it." For a time there, I even thought her poop smelled good. Which now sounds absolutely ridiculous, but I'm telling you a diaper full of exclusively breastmilk-fed poo is really not so bad. All in all, I thought I was pretty tough.
Then I took Sophie out to lunch today.
It all started innocuously enough. I was 15 minutes late, as usual, despite having left in plenty of time to get there punctually. I did not, however, leave with enough time to get halfway there only to realize I didn't have any food or drinking implements for Sophie, necessitating a return trip home. Once settled in at the restaurant, though, things were actually going pretty well. Sophie was nibbling on a tortilla chip and being her cutie patootie self, hamming it up for her grandparents and aunts. She continued to be good, eating a whole container of Yo Baby, or as I like to call it, yogee. Because everything gets shortened and ends in an "ee" these days. Hence, diapee changes. I know, pathetic. Anyhoodle, our food comes and she takes one of the french fries off my plate and eats it. I'm over the moon. She's eating real food! Then she takes another one. And another. I think it might have been the fourth one when we ran into a snag. And by snag, I mean she threw it all up.
This is when I discovered that watching chunks of a virtually unchewed version of what I am at that very moment eating come flying out of my daughter's mouth, along with a whole mess of other things, completely turns my stomach. So much so, that once we had her cleaned up, I was barely able to finish eating. I can tell you, I didn't eat any more french fries. AND I passed on dessert, for maybe the first time ever.
Meanwhile, my father-in-law was cupping a napkin under her mouth to catch the spew with one hand while still eating with the other hand.
Now THAT is tough.