HELP!

Let's go back a few days and see what happened Saturday night...that absolutely scared the CRAP out of me!


Darren was up with Caroline, waiting to feed her around 10:30, so I went ahead to lay down in bed. I had just dozed off while watching Roadhouse (never seen it, but I love Patrick Swayze), when I'm awakened by Darren shouting, "Jen! Help!", from Caroline's room on the other side of the house. Well, of course, I panicked! I tore out of bed and raced across the house shouting "What? What is it?". I thought something horrible must have happened, like she'd fallen or wasn't breathing or something truly terrible. When I got to her room, I finally saw the "emergency" that had befallen Daddy...projectile POOP all over the changing table, Caroline, and Darren's hand! At first I was relieved, then I was upset that he'd scared me so badly! Leave it to Mommy to save the day by getting all the nasty, poopy stuff in the washer, and Daddy cleaned up Caroline and got a clean diaper on.


Fast forward to last night. I'm on the couch with Caroline for our midnight feeding. She'd just finished a 2 oz bottle of formula, had burped, and was dozing comfortably on Mommy's chest, when another "emergency" came up. This time it was me yelling for Daddy's help. But I swear I did not do it quite as urgently as he did, so as not to completely scare him to death!! In the blink of an eye, Caroline had gone from a peaceful, almost-slumber, to a vomit-spewing machine! All over Mommy!! Fortunately, none of it got on the couch or throw blankets...just on me, Caroline, and her blankie. Just another midnight load of laundry...{sigh}