i wanted to post this yesterday, but seeing as how words are forbidden on that day, i had to wait. i hope you think it was worth it:
when i get home at night, bebe and i play for an hour or so before it's time to start winding her down for bed time. we play a number of different games- 'super face' (we fly around the house looking at stuff), 'trixasaurus rex' (where i stand her up and she stomps around with a menacing look on her face), 'in face, no one can hear you scream' (this is a take off on the "aliens" movies, where i hold her above me either standing or laying on the floor and she giggles and drools all over me), and 'protect the neckles' (we call her numerous neck rolls 'the neckles.' this involves laying her down and smooching her double chins while she squeals). and then there are simpler games without names that just involve some kind of noise and a funny face, etc.
early in the week we were laying on mommy and daddy's bed, playing one such nondescript game. this one involved standing her on my hips while i lay on my back. i would slowly lower her face towards mine, making an 'ahhhhhh' noise that got higher as she got closer, until finally our noses would touch and we'd be face to face smiling at each other. well, we're playing our game, up and down, up and down she goes. as she gets more into it, her wrestling persona alter-ego appears. we call her "the portuguese thunder," after her great grandma ferreira who, just like bebe, was a strong little lady(thanks to auntie jamie for the original nickname). her eyes get big and her lips make an "O" and she pounds her chest with her left arm and kicks her feet. it's quite a sight. so she's really getting into it- up she goes, then "aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-rgggg...!" plop.
just as our noses touch, just as her wide open mouth is directly above my own wide open mouth, just as i'm at my most vulnerable, she pukes. into my mouth. a lot. pukes. vomit. not cutesy baby spit-up, not the watery dribble we get post-feeding. this is the real deal, the good stuff. words fail to describe. it's sort of like a really acidic tasting glob with the consistency of a raw egg, or maybe an oyster. there's some runny stuff, some gooey stuff, some kind-of solid/gelatinous stuff... and did i mention that it's warm? yeah, warm. and since my mouth was wide open, and i was talking at the time (or making noise, at least), this hot little package is delivered directly to the back of my throat. fed-ex delivery style. when it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight. i can 'taste' it in my nose.
now, this happens in a fraction of a second, and of course as my lizard brain is told by my throat what's going on, it's in turn telling my arms to throw this thing i'm holding (my daughter) to the side, and it's telling my own stomach it might as well throw-up too, what the hell.
i veto both of these suggestions by invoking my higher brain power and quickly sit up, placing bebe in the middle of the bed next to me on her back. now, she's just man-barfed so she's not feeling so hot either. she stares at me with her big watery eyes, mouth hanging slightly open (gumpy?), with what looks like a little cottage cheese on her chin. not wanting to run from the room, i do the only thing i can think of in the moment: i grab the nearest burp cloth and, still retching/fighting the urge to hurl, empty the entire contents of my mouth into it. only now, with this warm puddle in my hand, do i realize just how much we've shared. like i said before, alot. i hold the rag against my mouth, hoping it will absorb some or most of this stuff. as i look down at the bedspread to see if any of it got away, i see beatrix on the bed beside me, big smile on her face.
i love this kid.