Oliver is sick. He has had a fever and has thrown up 3 times. And each time he throws up he has thrown up on me. The first time was by complete surprise; it came out of nowhere. We were sitting on the couch and he was eating some cheese and then, BARF, the contents of his stomach where all over Oliver, the couch and me. It was gross but I was more concerned with how my little guy was doing.
The second time we were sitting on the couch and out of nowhere, BARF! This time most of the stomach contents ended up on his PJs and our couch blanket. But it was gross as digested food and stomach acid is always gross and will always be gross no matter how you slice it or dice it.
But the third time was last night. Oliver was painfully crying in his crib so Adam and I decided it best for Oliver to sleep with us. He was moaning and crying and he just looked so pathetic. After an hour of our little guy squirming and moaning and weeping he starts gagging and is about to throw up. I turn on the light and scoop him up into my arms as he begins to throw up all over my shirt. Again, it was gross and really I should have learned my lesson not to hold a baby who is throwing up.
Still, I can’t help but think that they are only shirts and they can be washed and the joy of comforting my son is worth the price of being puked on.