We took Eve out to dinner tonight, because that's maybe the best way Ish and I get to have quality time with each other. When we're home, we each fall into our own trying-to-keep-up-with-household-responsibilities routines and don't tend to have real "conversations." You know.
So we get home, and Eve's awake for whatever reasons. I am sitting on the sofa, in a reclined position, wearing a cute, all-black outfit. I didn't exactly "dress up" for dinner, but I wanted to look different than my usual, sweatpants-covered-in-spit-up self.
I was holding Eve under her arms, straight up over my chest, her feet on my chest as though she were standing on my breastbone. She was cooing happily, her legs extended and knees slightly bent.
But then, quite suddenly, her facial expression changed, and next thing I knew she was shaking. Almost like a tremor or seizure, but not quite that violent. I didn't like it. Of course, by the time I was sure she was shaking, it had passed.
Still, I said aloud, "I don't like you shaking like that. I don't ever want anything to be wrong with you." And then I laid her on my chest and stomach, wrapped my arms around her and said with great affectation while looking at Ish, "YOU STAY RIGHT HERE FOREVER."
It was a sweet moment: me, holding my daughter tightly in my arms saying I wanted to hold and protect her from harm, always.
Except that the moment I uttered the "-ver" part of "FOREVER," she projectile spit-up all over me.
My neck, chest, breastbone/cleavage, and shirt got doused. It was violent. (But at least it explained the shaking.)
Ish rushed to my side to try to clean it up, but didn't quite make it to me before he bent over in fits of laughter. Eventually he was able to stop his laugh-tears long enough to remove Evie from my immediate vicinity, whereupon he started mopping up my chest. When he thought was done, he pushed my boobs aside -- in a parting of the boob sea kind of motion -- as if to kiss me between them. Which is when he noticed that there at the base of my bra was a virtual POOL of spit-up.
It doesn't get sexier than this, folks.