This morning I was sitting at my desk, trying to talk myself into working when really all I wanted to do was go home, take a nap and play with the baby, when the phone rings. It was Chris, my stay-at-home-daddy brother-in-law that watches Walker for us while we toil in hell. Instantly my heart plunged into my stomach. What was wrong? Had the baby rolled off the bed? Had the girls shoved a pencil up his nose to see if he could write with it up there? What was wrong? DEAR GOD, PROTECT MY BABY!!!
So I answered the phone to hear a very somber sounding Chris:
Chris: "So I was feeding the baby and he started making this really weird noise."
My Mind: "Oh, no! Not throwing up again? What am I doing wrong!?! Why can't he go a whole month without projectile vomit? I'm a terrible mother! I've only been at this 6 months and already I'm unfit!!"
Chris: "So I looked down thinking 'what are you doing??'"
My Mind: "...and you found that not only had he barfed, but it was pure blood barf! There's something wrong with my baby!!! I'm on my way! HOLD ON, SON, MOMMY'S COMING!!!"
Chris: "And rather than eating, he was blowing air back through the nipple and blowing bubbles in his formula."
How cute is my kid? And how psycho am I!!