As an infant, my daughter was a prolific spitter-upper. For three months, she and I both went through several outfit changes a day. Virtually every piece of furniture in our house was draped with some form burp cloth—hankerchiefs, dish towels, and cloth diapers—so there would always be one within reach. Even still, my shoulder, back, or ponytail managed to soak up a few ounces of regurgitated milk after most feedings. No matter how I craned my neck, it was hard to see what she was about to unleash on me. The burp cloth would shift as I hoisted her up, or she’d grab it with her fist. Thinking surely she’d emptied everything above the air bubble, I’d lower her from my shoulder into my lap just in time to be doused again. Then she’d smile with relief.
Changing her outfit took priority. Diaper, onesie, I’d knock it all out at once. Upon completing this job, something else would divert my attention—a ringing phone or my bursting bladder. Two hours would go by and I’d start to notice a sour smell. What food did we leave out last night? I’d start to scan the room and then realize, oh, it’s me.
Around month three, it occurred to me that I needed some inspiration from classical Greek sculpture. If I could shift my weight into the S-curved contrapposto stance mastered by the sculptor Praxiteles, for example, my daughter’s spit-up would sail right over my shoulder. Check out his “Hermes and the Infant Dionysos” (340 B.C.). Hermes doesn’t even need that big swag of a burp cloth under his arm. He knows when he raises that baby up, his curved posture will keep him blissfully boot-free.
Thus the “contrapposto burpo” stance was born at our house. After our daughter finished nursing, I’d lift her to my shoulder and swing my hips out in front and to the right. I could only hold the position long enough for a few pats on her back. But it saved me some outfit changes. Instead of feeling warm milk soaking into my clothes, I’d hear a splat on the floor. Voila, perfectly round circles of spit-up. We coined a term for those, too: “pancakes.”
both of mine were prolific spitters. at some point we laid a drop cloth in a corner of the house and would often burp my daughter there. eventually my husband discovered that with her hoisted over his shoulder, he could stand with his back to the bathroom sink and aim for it. we’ve been a bit more laissez-faire with the baby boy (who no longer spits up now that he sits up). i’m still finding old crusty spit up in places, like the back of the glider chair.
Gross and HILARIOUS!
Oh, yeah, keeping it real…
very cute do u need help with the baby actually i can help you carry her, burp her on my shoulder , change her diapers , and take care of her.
Thank you, K, I’m all set, but do help out another mom near you!