Daddy's Little Girl

When Anna was about three weeks old, I talked Dan into watching her on a Wednesday night so that I could go grocery shopping. Lately, whenever I get a chance to get out, I tend to take advantage of Dan's generosity and linger at the store longer than necessary. Well, maybe for my sanity's sake it's necessary. I did my best to hurry that night and I was just finishing up when Dan called. I think he started off by asking when I was going to be home, but when I explained that I just needed to grab a few things and check out, he quickly made it clear that the only correct answer to his question was "I'm leaving the store right now." Dan was freaking out because Anna had "vomited" all of the three ounces he had just fed her. Having just spent an hour grocery shopping, I wasn't about to abandon my cart, so I suggested that he clean her up. "How do I that?" he accused. So I explained that he should wipe off any spit up with a wash cloth and change her clothes. I admit that I was completely patronizing and unsympathetic. My poor, inept husband I thought. After all, he is an only child, whereas I'm the oldest of seven and I've seen my fair share of spit up. At any rate, he did change her clothes and I got out of the store with my groceries, but Dan wasn't pleased with my light attitude towards his experience.

Then about a week later, Anna did a similar thing to me. While feeding her, she had seemed especially easy to burp. She burped easily and often. But after her bottle, she seemed a little fussy, so I was walking around with her. We haven't yet moved to the stage where she can cry herself to sleep, so I'm often holding her until she falls asleep. Suddenly spit up spouted from her lips. It bubbled up several times and even came out her nose twice. The whole time she just looked at me like "this is a new and interesting experience." By the time she was finished, she was drenched in spit up and so was I. There were also a few puddles of it on the kitchen floor. I expected her to cry, but she just looked at me a little exhausted. Suddenly all my nonchalance was gone. For the next few days, I was leery about feeding her too much and if she seemed to burp too easily, I shorten her feeding unless she cried for more, which she did most of the time. So I've repented of mocking Dan.

So we're both getting a bit more used to Anna's bodily fluids. Just the other day Dan told me with some pride that she'd hit him with everything she had all in one day. He'd changed a massive poopy diaper--in the middle of changing her he'd discovered the hard way that she wasn't finished pooping--he'd been peed on, and she sneezed a booger onto his hand. What a great dad!