A has reflux. Like, BAD. She’s on meds for it, but it doesn’t seem to help.
And what’s kind of great is that she doesn’t care. She’ll be sitting there smiling at you and then all of a sudden “BLECH!” Baby barf all down your shirt.
No lie: we were getting ready for church one morning and I LITERALLY had to strip down and even get a new BRA, because she barfed down the front of my shirt.
Anywho. So barfy baby. For the longest time I really avoided lying her (laying her? I never know the correct grammar of that…) on the floor, because I knew she would just barf all over everything, which creates more work for me.
Insert: Bad Mom of the Year Award
But, I realized that the only way she will realize how to sit, crawl, roll, etc, is if she does things on her own, which sometimes entails her lying (dammit, came across that word again) on the floor.
Here comes the gross part: she barfs. (ok, that’s not the gross part, get ready for it….)
And after we put her to bed the other night, we came out to the living room, where Autumn was voraciously licking the carpet where only moments ago our baby vomited.
My dog likes vomit.
I swear we feed her. Like GOOD food too, not cheap stuff.
But instead, vomit was her main course tonight.
On the plus side, at least I don’t have to clean THAT up tomorrow…