It appears that in the future, I should refrain from allowing Abby reading material in a moving vehicle, since I'm near-certain that decision is what caused this morning's puke-fest shortly before we were to get out of the van to go to church. Happily, having Mommy in the back seat to catch the second round, clean her up as well as could be done with a package of wipes, wrap her up in a nursing cover and keep her company on the smelly drive home did wonders for Abby's spirit.
She was ready for lunch within the hour. I was not nearly so, having just been through a major trial-by-fire which I nailed despite a stubbornly lingering phobia. Though adrenaline allowed me to hold out a baggy, wipe up the mess and snuggle with my still-icky girl without a second thought this time around, the pent-up anxiety left me feeling ill and drained for hours afterwards.
I saved my own meltdown for well-after-the-fact, however, so I'll call that a huge win.
Other wins this past week:
- Mia's ten-hour sleepfest on Sunday night.
- Wednesday's successful family trip to the doctor's office.
- A fun-filled Saturday with Nana and Papa, in which Michael finally learned to drink from a straw, and Mia overcame her discomfort with less-familiar folks.
- Five straight days Zantac-free for Mia.
|Best buddy Foo-Foo.|
|Mia makes elephants look good.|
|Movie time! (Mary Poppins)|
|Out for a walk on one of the last days of summer.|
|Fed up with the high chair (doesn't take long).|
|Helping Daddy keep in shape.|
|Inspecting her new stuffed hippo.|
|Adding adorable toes to the lunch conversation.|
|Wearing down the red crayon.|
|Drinking from a "big boy" cup.|
|Chatting with Daddy.|
|Trying to fill some pretty big shoes.|
Overheard this week:
Randomly, in the middle of dinner: "Does the food make us poop?"
Gazing at her reflection in a cup of juice: "My face is inside the cranberry juice and I'm gonna drink myself."
Between Tom and Abby
A: "What's your name?"
T: "You can call me 'Daddy.'"
A: "What's your name. Say it. Say it. You knooow it!"
T: "Abby, do you think Aunt Ali is going to have a little baby boy or a little baby girl?"
A: " Is it gonna be a cousin?"
T: "Abby, time to brush your teeth."
A: (Standing deer-in-the-headlights fashion, a disconnected end of the baby swing adapter cord in each hand) "I'm just gonna fix this."
"Bear. All done (ah duh)! School bus (skoo buh). Hush."