Just yesterday, I wondered "What exactly is the difference between baby spit-up and throw-up?" Today I got my answer, while playing air-plane with Zander (picture me laying down with him extended high above).
When a 98.6 degree milk-and-stomach-acid-soup hits you in the face you'll know the difference. When it happens again, no more than 10 minutes later (some of us are a little denser and slow on the uptake than we should be) and you shrug it off and just rub it into your outfit, the one you've worn two days in a row and already has a variety of spit-up incidents on it, you'll know you're deep in the throws (bad play on word) of motherhood.
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