Well, if Vic and I were still “rookies,” as of 7:30pm tonight we will no longer accept that status.


Over the past 14 months I’ve been spit-up on many times, I’ve gotten the soaked-thru diapers against the chest, I’ve even had an unfortunate incident while removing a diaper (too quickly, as it turned out.)


But now…as I await MY turn at the shower, (Gracie first…then Vic) I know that all of those we’re just “cute little baby moments”.


Tonight I was vomited on for the first time.


I’m not talking about a little milk spit either, I’m mean full bore, belly-heaving, grown-up chunk blowing (10 minutes after dinner) that covered both Vic and I, as we tossed her back and forth like a hot-potato!


(That’s just me trying to be funny, Vic actually get’s the Red Badge o’ Courage for keeping hold of the baby AND making sure that nothing reached the carpet, all while gagging herself.)


It’s so bad that I’m having to breath through my mouth while awaiting my turn to clean up, (I, also, tend to be a sympathetic vomiter…) and everything the three of us were wearing had to go directly into the washing machine.


Sounds like Gracie’s doing a little better know, but feel free to toss out a prayer for her, she was in close proximity to a couple of pukey kids yesterday (neither we nor they knew until it was too late.)


So…I’m sure there will be many more experiences even worse than these, but this is the first thing that has really made me say, “Oh…My…God…!”