This is a story about toddler vomit. I'll try to go easy on the gory details, but if you're not interested in reading about how vomit was involved in one of favorite mom moments, this is your warning.
On Sunday, we had family over and Mo had a busy evening playing with her cousins and eating lots of junk. She went to bed late, but fell asleep quickly. About 45 minutes later, I heard her whimpering. On the monitor I could see her sitting up in bed, but she wasn't crying and she wasn't moving. Mike went up to check on her, but only stood outside her door and left when he didn't hear anything. But I knew something was up. Mother's intuition I guess. I walked into her room, and in the dark I ran my hand over her hair. It came away wet. And chunky.
Poor girl had thrown up all over her bed and herself. It was disgusting. But it was also so precious. Mo was so calm and sweet, she didn't cry or act upset. She was just confused and quiet, and trusted that I would take care of her.
I bathed her, and kept her warm, and reassured her all along that everything was fine. When she vomited again a couple hours later, we repeated the process, and then she fell asleep in my bed (this NEVER happens!). It was a special moment, the whole thing. It's exactly how I pictured motherhood: being the one who takes charge and comforts.
I hope I will always be that person for Mo.