And once again, Rob and I are at the bottom of the parent learning curve. A few weeks ago, Romi got his first cold and we learned loads from that experience. We learned that he really, really hates having his nose wiped, that he hates it less if you use a warm washcloth, that the best number of phonebooks under the crib legs is two, that Vic's Vapor Rub comes in a kid version, and that the only thing worse then wiping Romi's nose is to blow saline up it. And the only thing worse than that is to use the nasal aspirator (a.k.a. the snot sucker-outer).
So when Romi came down with another cold, we thought we had it in the bag. He was true to form, including coughing on phlegm and then gagging and throwing up a bit. We thought it was all par for the course. We were wrong. The annoying thing is how long it took us to figure out our mistake.
You would think we'd figure out the vomiting was worse when last night, out of nowhere, Romi lost half a bottle of formula in a projectile vomiting performance that would have made Damian proud. Of course, said event took place in the living room, and the victims included the futon, a pillow, me and Heather. Following our stunned silence, Heather and I broke into uproarious laughter. We just couldn't figure out how something so small could get such a large amount of liquid to travel so far and at such a velocity.
You'd think that would have been our first clue, but no. Our second clue should have been the coughing-barfing combo that lead us to change the sheets this morning (which is truly a pain to do in a crib). And yet, we were still clueless. Romi endeavored to get his message across by losing most of an 8-ounce bottle of formula all over the lunch table and floor at Claim Jumper. It's was a good thing that we were with seasoned professionals; it didn't stop Heather, Mark, Rob or I from finishing lunch.
Alas for poor Romi, his parents still didn't have a clue and prepared to go out for Chinese food with friends. Romi, however, had other plans. He decided enough was enough and he was going to get our attention come hell or high water, so he proceeded to barf and barf and barf, all over the tile floor. It was at that point that Rob and I looked at each other and said, huh, maybe he's sick and we shouldn't go.
Happy 40th Barfday to me!
So when Romi came down with another cold, we thought we had it in the bag. He was true to form, including coughing on phlegm and then gagging and throwing up a bit. We thought it was all par for the course. We were wrong. The annoying thing is how long it took us to figure out our mistake.
You would think we'd figure out the vomiting was worse when last night, out of nowhere, Romi lost half a bottle of formula in a projectile vomiting performance that would have made Damian proud. Of course, said event took place in the living room, and the victims included the futon, a pillow, me and Heather. Following our stunned silence, Heather and I broke into uproarious laughter. We just couldn't figure out how something so small could get such a large amount of liquid to travel so far and at such a velocity.
You'd think that would have been our first clue, but no. Our second clue should have been the coughing-barfing combo that lead us to change the sheets this morning (which is truly a pain to do in a crib). And yet, we were still clueless. Romi endeavored to get his message across by losing most of an 8-ounce bottle of formula all over the lunch table and floor at Claim Jumper. It's was a good thing that we were with seasoned professionals; it didn't stop Heather, Mark, Rob or I from finishing lunch.
Alas for poor Romi, his parents still didn't have a clue and prepared to go out for Chinese food with friends. Romi, however, had other plans. He decided enough was enough and he was going to get our attention come hell or high water, so he proceeded to barf and barf and barf, all over the tile floor. It was at that point that Rob and I looked at each other and said, huh, maybe he's sick and we shouldn't go.
Happy 40th Barfday to me!
