I have seen the stuff of legend; I have actually seen the projectile vomit…live, in action. Annalie, Story, Caragh and I are nursing colds. With all of us having colds, it adds that extra dimension of nifty to our days and nights.
As any parent will tell you, we (parents, that is) do most activities in the night in a sort of half-sleep-half-awake state. Last night I was abruptly taken from that half-and-half state; Annalie had just finished her 1am or 2am or maybe it was her 3 or 4am bottle, I’m not sure because they all seem to blur into one long sleepless night. Anyway, I put Annalie on my knee, gently patted her back a couple of times and then…burning hot Nestle formula was spewed forth…it cleared her clothing and as I watched it arcing through the air I made one of those “blink” decisions like when the secret service guys throw themselves in front of the bullet to save the President’s life.
We have new carpet in the nursery and as much as I like the Nestle formula I just had doubts about what it would be like in that room in the heat of the summer when the one drop I had not seen felt the heat of the sun. So my body contorted to take the brunt of the projectile.
I felt it spray across my bare chest, ricochet off, hit my suddenly distended stomach, and then bounce off the bare skin. Knowing I needed a part of my body with more absorbent clothing to contain the spill, my last hope was my leg. Draped in my favourite silk pyjamas, it shot out.
The formula hit my upper thigh, then my knee. Running out of absorbency, my calf was my final hope. It cleared my calf. The carpet was doomed! But my foot! With other-worldly control my foot swivelled like Nadia Comaneci on the parallel bars….and caught the renegade vomit streak. The carpet had been saved!