Monday, September 13, 2010

A Dozen Bibs

            I’m amazed that my son Joshua is still growing. Not because three-month-old kids don’t grow, but because he pukes so darn much. I’m not watching him all day, but it seems like every time I look at him he’s either asleep or throwing up.
            I came home for lunch today and held little Joshua. He happily gazed up into my eyes and smiled.
            “Hello, my little jelly bean!” I said to him with a grin.
            “Aa-aaaah!” Joshua cooed back at me.
            “He sure is a cutie,” I thought, and then he puked. Thankfully, he was wearing a bib, so I used it to wipe up his face, then coo at him again.
            Michelle was watching me and offered some experienced advice. “Stick out your tongue,” she said.
            I glanced up at her, then tried popping out my tongue. Instant big grins. I darted my tongue in and out, and Joshua squealed happily. Ah, how silly we adults all become with a child in front of us. I had the privilege last week of watching an old family friend in her late sixties dancing around with big eyes and popping her hands in and out in front of her. Why? Because I was holding Joshua, of course.
            Their simple little smiles can melt any attentive person’s heart. But their puke – well, it’s pretty gross, and it seems like it just keeps coming.
            Back to lunch today, Joshua ended up puking so much he went through two bibs in our little half-hour together. I tried cleaning up the mess quickly, but one of the dogs kept beating me to the floor bits. When I was putting the third bib on him I asked Michelle, “How many bibs does he go through in a day?”
            “At least ten,” she said.
            “At least?” I lifted my little offspring and looked him in the eye.
            Michelle nodded.
            “We should give him a new nickname. How about, ‘The Pukenator!’ Although I’ve always like ‘Jelly Bean,’ a lot.”
            Michelle quietly kept chewing her food.
            “The Pukenator. Puking through a dozen bibs with no effort whatsoever! Able to throw up yet continue to grow up! He’s a super-boy!”
            Michelle shook her head at me and stood up to clean the dishes.
            “Well, he is a pretty super boy. I don’t care how colicky he is, he’s definitely becoming cuter every day.”
            Michelle held out her arms to take Joshua. “You clean up.”
            “Okay,” I said. “You’re going to put him down for a nap?”
            She nodded.
            “Have a great day. I’ll see you later.” I gave her a kiss, then kissed Joshua. He looked uncomfortable. I said a mental prayer for him. However much I might make light of it, it is kind of scary to watch your son not be able to hold down his food. The biggest comfort I have is he certainly isn’t small, so he must be eating enough. I’m looking forward to when he gets through this stage, eats some solid foods, and holds down his food. But for now, I think I’ll call him The Pukenator.

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