Ah, babyhood.

Julia's on the waning edge of babyhood, what with being 21 months old (time to start saying "she's almost two") and with her speaking phrases and running and walking down stairs holding the railing (that one scares me, yes, and I always hold her arm when I catch her doing it).

But you know she's still a baby when she cries out in the night and doesn't stop and so you head to her room and pick her up. Then you realize that her stomach moving against your chest is her retching and she pukes all over your shoulder.

Yup, nothing says you're a parent more than a nasty, warm, wet, oh-my-god-that-stinks gift from your sick child on your shoulder.

She seems to be feeling better tonight. She hasn't thrown up since first thing this morning and she doesn't have any other symptoms, other than not wanting to eat much.

And when I carried her up to bed tonight, she was back to putting her normal sleepy, heavy head, warm and sweet, on my shoulder. Feeling better, thank god.