Some people may not know this, but my Dad had a very unique sense of humor. Take for instance the incident that occurred about 3 days before my first day of Kindergarten. Somehow I managed to slip and fall on a wet pool deck and crack my forehead open on the metal steps of the slide. A trip to the ER and a full row of stitches later, I found myself donning a large, white, bulky bandage on my face. I was less than thrilled at the idea of wearing this to my first day of school, so my dear old Dad, always the fashion forward thinker (ha ha), thought that a bright red Air California (the airline he was flying for at the time) sticker would be the perfect accessory to compliment my wound covering. So yes, I attended my first day of school EVER, wearing a massive bandage with an airline sticker smack in the middle of my forehead (shucks, I don't have a picture on hand). Funny now, but not so funny to the horrified Kindergartner of the past. So, when life throws me a day like I had yesterday, I can't help but imagine that my Dad is somewhere out there orchestrating these hideously ridiculous scenarios for his (and let's face it, my) personal entertainment. Here's what happened: At Marin's last check-up, her Pediatrician told us that we could start introducing cow's milk in small amounts around 11 months, despite the fact she has not done well with milk based formula in the past. Well, the kid is almost 11 months and our bank account is really eager for us to switch from formula to real milk, so we bought our first carton of whole milk and at Marin's pre-dinner snack I gave her literally 2 VERY SMALL sips. That's it. Then she had her "puffs" and bananas and a couple of hours later(everything going just fine) she had her night time bottle of formula while I whipped up some carrot soup. Just as the timer was about to sound, signaling that the soup was done, Marin finished her bottle and I picked her up while I stirred the soup one last time. As I'm stirring and commenting to Marin on how "burpy" she was, she unleashed a massive, projectile bolus of vomit. I somehow managed to push the pot of soup out of the way just in the nick of time (phew!), which left open a fiery hot burner for the vomit to cook itself on (sorry to be so graphic, but I just want to paint an accurate picture for you). Now, for those of you who know me well, what's my #1 fear in life? ---- yup, VOMIT! So, there I was covered in it, holding my daughter who was also covered in it and watching (not to mention smelling) it cook on my stove top and I couldn't help but laugh -- thanks Dad! After asking Marin 10,000 times if she was ok (of course she was), giving her bath #2 for the day and cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom, life went on and the carrot soup was DELICIOUS!! Lucky Tom got home from work after Marin was sound asleep and missed the whole darn thing! Needless to say, cow's milk will not be given to my daughter anytime in the near future. Don't get any ideas John and Joe Cronley!!
Don't worry, I didn't take any pictures of the disaster, but here are a few recent shots of the lactose intolerant girl.
