Vomitathon

For a while there I thought we might be trending toward less retching and spewing.  Four times this week!  One crying induced choke when the babysitter showed up, one regular old-fashioned gag on the very last bite of an hour long dinner session, one middle of the night milk disaster, and one inexplicable couch vomit that even he had no idea was coming.

What gives?  He's off milk.  Off eggs.  Off nuts.  Off any bites larger than a dime.  He's working on his chewing and maybe even starting the get the idea, if not the hang of it quite yet.  He doesn't seem to be in pain.  He's happy - often immediately before he pukes and almost always immediately after.  There's the runny nose factor, which always makes his feeding and throwing up worse, but if that's going to be the deciding factor, there's no recourse but to move.  Runny noses are a way of life here until mid-April at least. 

The thing is, I don't even care about the mess anymore.  It's rather like changing a diaper - though I wouldn't mind giving up that gift of motherhood soon either, and despite the thousands of changes I've performed, I would still opt against doing it on the table of a crowded restaurant.  It's all the work that goes into it.  After an hour of helping to spoon tiny nibbles of hearty gnocchi in oil-rich marinara and fluffy egg-free, dairy-free meatballs into his mouth, he gives it all back on the last bite.  Last night, he put away nearly half a chicken breast, couscous, and a few green beans.  Happily, he fled the table, played with his beloved Silly Bandz for ten minutes, then puked all over the couch.  He explained that his tummy never even hurt.  He didn't know he was going to throw up. It surprised him as much as the rest of us.  At least it was bath night.

Maybe the EoE's still bothering him.  The next scope's set for November 5.  In the interim, there's the allergist appointment, flu shot sequence, and pre-op physical preceding the scope.  It's a laugh a minute for this kid.